


Sweet Dreams

by Ilillium (Lucillium)



Series: Lucidity [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Lust to love, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, MvM Robots, Other, Robots, Slow Build, Soft Gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 77,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucillium/pseuds/Ilillium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Certainly the dreams were confusing and aggravating as hell. They threatened his job, threatened his life, and his mental stability each night sleep was stolen from him. </p>
<p>But if the reward was this, even once in a blue moon, well... Sniper couldn’t complain about the lecherous heaps of metal even if he wanted to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey there. If you're reading this, thank you, first off. I got some notes at the end, so take a peek, please 'n thanks.

Night had fallen once more, and Sniper had amped himself up all day to escape the base for some quality time to himself. Too often he and his team were cooped together, for hours and even days upon end, waiting with baited breath for the Announcer to relay the next sightings of Greymann's robot minions.

It took everything in the Australian's power to stay focused during the last few waves, but his efforts were waning. There were occasional bullets that forced oil to gush from the metal clones' little heads, and those tickled Sniper dearly on the inside, but the bulk of his shots were sloppy ones to the arms, chest, legs—anywhere debilitating, but not fatal. He figured the other mercs would clean up what was started, and nobody would notice his lack of professionalism. 

Well, almost nobody.

His camper van was parked not too far from the Powerplant, which made packing and straightening up his nest all the more a difficult task. There was a coffee pot with contents that could've been considered iced then, along with its partner mug, the day's paper and opened mason jars. Briefly staring, he sighed hard and kicked the mess into the corner of the space, hoping one of Soldier's rabid creatures wouldn't get into his nest. A peek at the clock showed it was 20:43, and that was enough for him to snatch up his sniper rifle and knife, and head down from his spot.

The spotlights did a horrible job of making his getaway an inconspicuous one, and he understood why Spy hated when the bots chose to assault them after dark. But it was quiet that night, or at least quiet enough to hear the commotion going on back inside the base, mainly led by Soldier. Nobody was near the tall windows of the commons area either—not even their Pyro, who often posted himself against them to stare up at the stars when he wasn't enamoured with the fireplace's flames. This proved beneficial for Sniper; he would get off base and back to his van for the next few days without ever being seen. There was much need for a reprieve, as even the walk started to bring about recollection of the deaths and amateur errors made earlier on.

Lost in his own thoughts after walking across the grounds, he tuned into the faintest pattern of footsteps. A quick halt and turn left him with nobody in his sights. With a heavy sigh, he carried on, passing the main gate that separated the facility from the outside world. His girl in sight, he smiled and grabbed for his keys, which were quickly dropped when a throat other than his own cleared behind him.

"Bloody spook, I'm not in any sort of mood for your antics tonight—"

"Herr Sniper." The voice was quieter than night itself, concerned and lacking abrasion. It sent a chill down Sniper's spine, but he managed to unfreeze, picked up his keys and turned to the man.

"Doc," he waited, hoping an explanation of his unexpected presence would come sooner than later. He didn't want to hear the awful news of needing to return to base because of an impromptu check-up. Medic was the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

"It's not normal for you to be so off-guard. I vas right behind you zhe whole time...und today as vell, you veren't at your best. Is zhere something zhe matter? Something I should be aware of?" 

The marksman looked back towards his van, then again at the doctor. "Nah, just been tired. Gonna go get some rest now, if you don't mind. Should be able in a few days again—"

"I do mind." Sniper stared as the older man cut him off. The German had taken off his glasses to clean them with a cloth summoned from his pocket. "Zhere is something you are not telling me," he insisted, peering up slightly from his task.

"Doc, there ain't anything." 

Replacing his spectacles, he moved in closely and touched upon both Sniper's shoulders gently. "I noticed you didn't vant to be in zhe base. Zhat is why I followed you to your van. I am going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer zhem truthfully. Othervise, I'll have no choice but to bring you back vith me."  
Medic left little room for Sniper to argue. The softened nature of the doctor was more frightening than anything else, as it wasn't natural, normal to him. "Roight, fine. What do you—"

"Take off your sunglasses."

"Wot?"

"Take zhem off. Zhe longer you take, zhe longer I hold you up."

Reluctant, Sniper complied and with the removal of his shades, the Medic frowned. He patted his left breast pocket and took out a small light and shone it into the Sniper's eyes.

"...And vhen was the last time you slept? Look up for me."

"Last night, I guess—"

"No, I mean completely slept. Not for just a few hours." 

"I don't know mate, I...maybe two days ago. That's why I'm gonna get some rest now."

"Hmm..." He trailed off, putting the little light back in his pocket. He moved around Sniper towards his van, waving him on. "Vell, come on, I don't have all day."

"Doc—" Sniper tensed at each word the Medic uttered. _Too smooth, too soft,_ he thought. _Must be after m’organs. T’hell wit’ that._

"I promise to keep zhe exam as short as possible. Und just think, in the comforts of your very own home. Be lucky I care as much as I do, Sniper." He continued to walk  
towards the solitary van in the near distance, and Sniper snapped back from thought, questioning the Medic's notions and concerns, before looking back behind him to see if anyone else was around witnessing this.

"Ve're alone, Sniper. Now come along." The tail of his coat whipped around once more as he resumed walking towards Sniper's van. A nervousness swelled within the assassin that sent pangs of discomfort to shoot around in his stomach. He looked down at his keys and then forced himself into the very direction the Medic was leading.  


He already knew he wasn't going to rest easy.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sorry Doc, it's...a bit of a mess. Let me straighten it up real quick for ya." 

The huntsman opened one of the back doors slightly to ease his way in without the Medic seeing too much of the clutter. For the most part, it was just old uniforms and boxers not put away where they belonged, and coffee mugs that were empty but yet to be cleaned. He moved the clothes down from the chairs and threw them up above on his bed. Shrugging, he went back and opened up the door so Medic could enter. "You can sit roight over there."

"Zhank you." Medic climbed into the van and surveyed his surroundings with a mixture of awe, curiousity and slight horror, and his expressions would contort that way for the first few minutes. "You said it vas messy. Zhis is nothzing, seeing our own Scout is filtzhy, and Demo keeps at least twenty empty bottles in his room at any given time."

Sniper laughed at the last bit regarding Demo. There were a few times he'd have conversations with the explosives expert, but they weren't about how many people or bots they've killed in a day, or lifetime. No, the talks with Demo were a bit deeper, and reflective, granted the conversation didn't turn into a crying mess of woe and despair on the drunkard's behalf. 

Medic watched as Sniper loudly yawned and moved towards his kitchen area to reach for a clean pot. "You want some tea?"

"Ooh, zhat vould be nice, zhank you."  
He nodded and grabbed at two canisters—and an extra pot. After filling one up with water, he prepped the other one for the coffee he normally drank in early in the morning. Medic sighed deeply, which was enough to catch the other man's attention.

"What?"

"Waiting for you to tell me what zhe matter is. I'm no dummkopf, you know."

"I told you already, it ain't—oh, bloody hell." Fumbling with the grounds, he spilled them over the countertop and sweared again towards the ceiling of his van.

"Here, let me help you with zhat." The Medic rose, gently nudging Sniper to sit down where he was before cleaning up the mess Sniper made. His touch was gentle, and Sniper urged himself to not move into it more. Instead, he just sat down in the booth and grunted. "You know, drinking coffee when you're obviously tired isn't smart at all..."

Medic went on some more about Sniper's health and how Sniper should strive to cut down on his caffeine intake, but it all fell on deaf ears. Sniper looked down at his hands, which trembled mildly as he recollected the recent accident, and then again his performance on the field as of late, and finally the root of all his discomforts. Slowly, liquid had swelled in his right eye as the embarrassment enveloped him, but upon realizing his glasses were removed, he rubbed at it violently and then looked the other way.

"...So zhat's vhat you should do."

"Wot?"

The Medic brought over two piping beverages—both of which were tea. He sat across from Sniper and observed him with softened eyes, and that was enough to make Sniper shift twice in his seat before picking up his drink to take a sip from it.

"Really, if you're going to daydream about me, at least vait until I finish giving you your prescription."

Nearly dropping his cup, Sniper firmly placed his drink down on the table, but not before cussing at his newly burned tongue. Medic couldn't help but howl in laughter, reaching across the small table and patting Sniper on the shoulder once more again.

"It vas just a joke! My, you really are vound up tight." 

"Not in a good mood, Doc."

"So, tell me, vhat's the matter? Everything stays confidential, you know zhat." Medic took a sip of his own tea before carrying on, and Sniper watched intently. "...Everybody has zheir own bad days, Sniper, but...vhat I'm trying to say is I vant to help you before zhe team _really_ notices you’re not vell—"

"Oi couldn’t care less ‘bout them men ‘n what they think."

"Yes, vell, tell zhat to zhe Announcer if she takes a look at your status reports as of late. I know you haven’t been doing too vell out zhere…Lucky for you I am zhe one who writes them up. But zhere is only so much lying I can do, seeing we're monitored on zhe clock." 

Realizing the accuracy of Medic's statement about the Announcer seeing all battle-wise, he sighed and lifted his cup again, gulping down the drink harshly until it was finished. The pain had numbed his mouth, but it warmed him enough to make him feel somewhat more relaxed.

"Can't sleep lately. Bad dreams."

"Oh? Und vhat kind?"

"I..." An attempt was made to stand up and avoid the conversation altogether, but Medic tilted his head to the side, and that was enough of a look to keep Sniper planted in his seat. "It varies. Sometimes, it's a shallow grave deal—ya know, in a coffin, still alive? Then other times, it's these damned bots, and they just defile everything they touch—it's bleeding awful." 

"Vhen you say defile..."

"Real messed up stuff, Doc. Like maiming kids, or just ripping innocent people to shreds. The last two though were a bit too much for me.

"One of them...big ol' Me— _bots_ \--pinned me to a corner, but didn't do anything to me, at first. I tried sniping it, but it didn't work, and it wasn't long before he was...ugh." Sniper buried his head into his hands and left them there for a moment. 

"You don't have to tell me now, Sniper, I have a general idea now of vhy—"

"Nah," he snapped, blood slowly rushing to his cheeks, "It's better ta just get this over with. I don't wanna talk about this again."

"Alright. So vhat happened vith zhe bot?"

"It was like it was human...like another you or somethin'."

"Vell, they were made from our likenesses, if I am not mistaken," Medic sang.

"Yeah, but you don't go around feeling up and then castrating us mercenaries!" Medic's eyes widened slightly, and silence fell soon after. For some time, it stayed that way before Sniper rose from his seat to move his cup from the table for the miniature sink.

"Scared the shit out of me, it did. Yet I woke up and I...I don't know what's wrong with my body that it responded loike that—"

"You vere aroused?"

"Wot?" Sniper’s body tensed up from head to toe.

"Just a question. I'm assuming you had some kind of sexual reaction, but I can't tell vhether it was undesirable because you hated it entirely, or undesirable because something in you liked it and zhat bothzers you now that you’re conscious."

Sniper's face had illuminated prominent cheek bones. "I...I never said that I got..."His voice grew weak, and he looked towards the window once more. "I don't know...well, I damn well know the last part had me scared, but I woke up, and it was a bloody mess, and that ain't right—" 

"You sleep naked? At night? It gets so cold at night zhough…yet there aren’t any signs of a fever." 

Sniper's face lit up even further, and his position facing away from the Medic proved beneficial. With a soft swallow, he carried on washing the mugs the best he could without sounding affected by the question. "I...sleep better that way. Always have," he growled. 

"Interesting," Medic hummed. "Vell, anyway, might I suggest you get some rest now. I'll monitor your sleeping patterns to make sure it's just nightmares keeping you avake."

Sniper squinted at the older man, trying to assess whether he was up to something or not. "Can't you do this in the mornin'?"

"Do you sleep in zhe morning, Sniper?" he snapped.

"Sometime—"

" _Vill you be asleep in zhe morning,_ Sniper?" he asked once more, with a firmer tone. It was another moment where Sniper couldn't escape Medic's say. "Get some rest. I von't mess with anything, if that's vhat you're vorried about. You have my word."

But that wasn't the issue at hand. In fact, the issue at hand was just explained—how was he supposed to get a good night's rest with a man—and more specifically his team's Medic watching him? Sniper reached up and rummaged through the clothes he threw on his bed earlier before finding another t-shirt and boxers to get into, knowing well he wouldn't be comfortable in them. Turning back to see if Medic was still looking his way, he had already realized that Medic had averted his gaze, and was focusing his attention on an archaic issue of a rifle magazine Sniper had strewn underneath the table. 

"Sniper, you do vhat you normally do. The male body is somezhing zhat I encounter frequently. Zhere is nothing new I'd be seeing, if I saw anyzhing." He flipped a few pages, and was seemingly reading it, but Sniper was too nervous to change out of his clothes.

Was it the fact that he was indeed just another person, or just a person at all, seeing him naked? It had been quite some time since he had to strip down in front of anyone, for any reason, be it before sex, to communally take showers, or anything of that sort. As he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, he realized it wasn't that, seeing he and Demo had wrestled in the buff at times back when he did shower with the others together, just for laughs. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he never witnessed Medic in the showers when the others were there. The same went for Spy, for obvious reasons, but the Medic was elusive just the same, and this made the assassin’s mind wander in curiousity as to why. 

Sniper shook his head a bit too violently to snap him out of that thought process before fully taking his shirt off to toss it on the ground. Exhaustion was starting to hit harder with the lack of true caffeine, and he sighed with every attempt to remove his pants before realizing he had a belt on. Fumbling with his buckle, he heard a slight snicker and looked up to see Medic's piercing blues scoping him out before returning back down to his magazine. 

_Well what’s he looking at me like—is he checking me out? Nah, no, no way._ Sniper, completely flustered, turned away from him once more and removed everything with haste to slink into his sheets before the man could get another glance. 

He burrowed his head under the blanket, trying to figure out why this was all so uncomfortable, realizing Medic never stopped reading nor moved from his spot. He sighed before shifting once, twice, three times in his bed, then poked his head from the sheets ever so slightly to observe the doctor.

"You're like a _kinder,_ " Medic whispered. It was returned with a low growl of dissatisfaction. 

"Sniper, don't zhink about vhat you have been dreaming about, zhink about vhat you would like to dream about, und take it from zhere." He dog earred a particular page on the magazine, never looking back at Sniper.

"I know how to go ta sleep, Doc, thanks."

"I couldn't tell."

"Yeah, well, I'm use to doing all the watchin'," he murmured, as he closed his eyes and nuzzled up against a pillow. He clutched it tight, and slowly started to doze off.

—————————————-

 

**_"Ha, ha, vhat a bloodbath!"_ **

Sniper heard the gritty chortle of the robot and peered around a corner to see the rest of his teammates' blood trickled onto the pavement. The machine had dropped its medigun and reached for its ubersaw, starting its hunt for the remaining mercenary.

Tucked away behind a boulder, Sniper patted his vest down to look for matches, a lighter—anything that could set his only arrow ablaze. Engineer had taught him the ins and outs of Graymann robot construction, and each bot had a gap where if a lit arrow would puncture and wedge itself in it, the entire bot would blow to pieces. For Medibots big and small, it was the most difficult, with a small space accessible only when it turned its neck to the side or upward in laughter during a taunt.

The clatter of the rolling wheel was nearing, moving at a pace Sniper was not prepared for. He looked to the left, then to the right, then the left again, noticing a tower of stacked waterbarrels that he could take cover behind, as the rock would be insufficient soon enough.  
" _Fess,_ " the bot hissed. "Get out here fraulein, und prepare for zhis examination!"

With arrhythmic heartbeats spurred on by fear, Sniper waited until the Medibot turned around to poke at the corpses before leaping across to the barrels. The tumble failed though, and his face scraped against the concrete, leaving lanky legs to be observed by the now aware robot. 

"Herr Sniper, come over here!"

He quickly rose and drew his bow to strike, steadying the shot as it zigzagged towards him. "Piss off, you heaping pile of—" Sniper's cry pierced through the night, as the bot impaled his right soldier with three shots from his crossbow. He fell over, pushing himself until he was against a corner, summoning his kukri as his last defense.

"Vhy do you struggle so much? I only vant to take some tests!" It jabbed its ubersaw in the same spot the last few bolts struck the assassin, and watched as it drew blood from his shoulder. Sniper's chest heaved as the pain spread throughout his body. He swung his blade with his left hand, and surprisingly hacked off a large chunk of metal that was its shoulder. The bot did not take too kindly to that, and backed away.

"You should know better zhan to strike at me!" He jabbed three more times in the same spot, drawing blood each time before reaching down to aggravate the wound some more with the small metallic sheet that was its tongue. Raising up, he rolled away, giving Sniper the opportunity to start frantically crawling in the opposite direction, but he didn't get far before he heard the synthesized laughter approach him one more.

Sniper was flipped on his back, and was greeted by an ubersaw tearing through the buttons of his shirt downward towards his pants. "Don't fight zhis, you vill want it!" The bot emptied all of Sniper's collected blood into the medigun he brought back over with him, and it whizzed and whirred a bit before little bits of electricity radiated from it. 

On verge of fainting, Sniper reached wearily around his limp body for his blade, and upon finding it, held it up towards the Medibot, who laughed at his persistence. Smacked away in an instant, the bot cut at Sniper's clothing once more, making small incisions on his chest, around his legs and dangerously close to his more fragile parts in between. 

There was a cold clutch on Sniper that had distracted him mildly from the pain in his shoulder. Dizziness was intensifying, and the faint sound of laughter only made him want to kick the bot away. But with so much blood dripping out, and the little blood left moving to his nether regions, he couldn't fight back even if he wanted to. Sniper told himself he wouldn't look at the Medibot, told himself he would remain stoic through the assault until death, but it started to become unbearably satisfying, and his head instinctively tilted up to watch just exactly what it was doing to him.

It spit out a copious amount of blackened oil onto Sniper, warmed from the Medibot's functioning. The slight speed increase of its pumping left Sniper to writhe under the warm, slick feeling before it was cut abruptly. 

"Medi-Medic,” Sniper purred in a defeated manner that seemed to please the robot. 

The bot had pulled away and reached for the medigun, placing the base of it around Sniper's cock. The fit wasn't snug, but the inside of the gun was ribbed and smooth. It flicked the switch and sent a jolt of energy throughout Sniper, who slowly felt his vitality being restored and a stronger, uncontrollable urge to pump into the gun.

"Hn—Fuckin'—holy—"

His shoulder was a dulled pain of the past, and he threw his head back then looked back up to watch the Medibot pilot the ubered gun. A few more whimpers and pants were followed by fervered bucking of hips, and when Sniper knew he was close, the gun was yanked away and the Medibot lifted his ubersaw once more.

"Did you zhink you vere off zhe hook? It's time for zhe exam, dummkoph!" With a growl, the Medibot cackled loudly before the clean cut was made and blood spewed, exploding everywhere.

———————————

"Sniper! Sniper!" 

His eyes opened with haste, voice hoarse, with tears falling down his cheeks. He explored his surroundings wildly and reached down to make sure everything was there before realizing the softened touch of another's hand holding his cheek steady. The cold sweat accumulated chilled him to his core, and he noticed how damp his sheets were as he tried to relax his breathing. Finally somewhat less delusional, he looked up at Medic, who struggled to convey a mere clinical concern for his well-being. The look of sheer duress on the doctor's face almost made him pull the man into his bunk, but he calmed himself and thanked the heavens for the privacy provided by his own van. 

"That was..." he asked, voice shaky and still unsure. 

"You're fine, you're...everyzhing is okay now, it's all over."

Sniper sat up and sighed heavily, covering his face with his hands. 

"You..." The doctor pushed up his glasses as he looked away before carrying on, "you vere sleeping fine for a while, und zhen you started to toss und turn...among ozher things." He cleared his throat before leaving Sniper's side to prepare some tea. It was obvious Medic was uncomfortable from the redness overwhelming his fair complexion, and Sniper didn't realize why until he felt two involuntary pulses and looked down at the pitched sheets.

"Oh, hell—" The scramble to suppress his erection did not go unnoticed by the Medic, even though he feigned ignorance to Sniper's outburst. Silence fell as the tea canister heated itself up to a wailing whistle. Medic couldn't help but glance over to Sniper, only to find his face bright red with anger, embarrassment, and confusion. He brought the drink to him bedside and placed his own on the table before rearing himself next to Sniper.  
Sniper’s lips were pursed and ready to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, he took the cup from Medic and sipped at it carelessly, forgetting completely it was piping hot. 

" _Dummkoph!_ " Medic snatched the drink away and set it aside, leaving Sniper in shock. "You burned yourself earlier. Try to take some care of yourself, bitte."  
Sniper switched his position a few times with a few grunts before looking back up at the doctor. 

"Sorry."

"No...no need." Medic moved in closer to Sniper with his little light from before and flicked it on. "Look zhis way."

Sniper autonomously complied, but his mind was more focused on the German's light grip on his chin, and the natural musk of the doctor that was pleasant and heady in close quarters. Sniper looked away from the light and directly at his examiner's eyes, which were studious in assessing his patient up until he realized he was being observed himself. He clicked off the light and a light flush reappeared on his face before he stepped back and reclaimed his drink. 

"Vell, you seem alright, but I vant to do more tests tomorrow in zhe infirmary." He reached for his lab coat and fastened it before fixing his glasses again, this time a bit more nervously. "Sniper, you should still try to rest, despite...zhe nightmare. If you rest now, chances are you von't have a dream again by the time you vake." 

"What time is it now?"

"Roughly 3 in zhe morning."

"It's late, maybe you could—" Sniper stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing what he was about to suggest. 

Medic hesitated to speak as well, staring at Sniper with a glimmer in his own eyes, which faded fast into a weakened smile. "Yes, Sniper, I'm leaving now."

“W-wait, oi didn’t mean to…you can finish ya tea before you go.”

Medic chuckled as he made his way out. “I’ll replace zhe tea leaves next time ve go into town.” It wasn't even close to what Sniper wanted to hear.

As the doctor turned the handle on the van's door, he stopped and turned slightly back towards his dumbfounded patient. 

"You know, you talk in your sleep," he uttered, words that merited no reaction until the van door was completely closed and the doctor was on his way. 

Sniper panicked initially, finally comprehending that every whimper and moan from his dream was audible for the Medic to hear. Though the more he thought about it, the more comfortable he got with the idea of his team's doctor witnessing it all, and the more it spurred on his already semi-excited state. Another glance at a small clock revealed it was 3:17 by the time he had stopped dwelling.

"Bleedin' nurse, what're ya doin' to me..." 

Sniper threw himself back flat on the bed and tucked his hands behind his head in an attempt to put himself back to sleep. But it wasn't long before his mind, and hands wandered once more, the thoughts of rest supplanted by a certain German's persistent façade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, there isn't that much robo-play in the fandom, unless I'm not looking hard enough. Silly stuff.  
> ~
> 
> On a more serious note, I am struggling with a style for Sniper's accent. There's only so many times you can throw an 'o' between words that rhyme with 'right' before it gets jaded. Also, there's a war between "what" and "wot" on these pages. That fight'll duke out for a bit more, and confusion will continue 'til I figure it out. 
> 
> Sorry if that's killin' the experience for ya.


	3. Chapter 3

Rising an hour later was brutal for the Australian, though it was necessary if he were to shower in solitude like he normally did. At this hour, most of the mercs were still sleeping, so interruptions of any sort weren't an issue—which was good, seeing his imagination still bore vivid images of what occurred in his dream, and countless moments of an embarrassed Medic. He figured an intense shower would help greatly, on top of the fact he had to wash himself clean of last night's solo romp. A hastened crawl out of bed along with preparation of coffee preoccupied him until he moved to rinse and clean the mugs from last night once again.

He hadn't realized it then, but the Medic had been drinking from his favourite self-proclaiming mug the night before. 

Had Spy or even Demo done the same thing, he would've given them hell for it, strictly because it was his favourite, and his alone to enjoy. He set the used cup aside and reached for another one. 

After the much needed cup of energy, some clothes were tossed on, and Sniper locked his van to make his way back to the base with new uniform in tow. 

The walk wasn't so bad, albeit the air was nippy and Sniper's clothes were fairly thin. He moved quietly throughout the base, taking care to avoid turning on any unnecessary lights, or making any noise as he went through the hallways. Each merc had their own quarters, including Sniper, though he only used his assigned room as a storage closet for his winter clothes, or when mandated by the Announcer to stay on base. He figured after his shower, he'd try to sneak in a quick nap before the day began.

What started as a deep sigh was quickly hushed, as there was a faint melody that seemed to echo out from the locker room. 

"Damn it," he mumbled, as he starting disrobing towards the shower stalls. He had hoped nobody would be there, but it seemed interaction with the Spy was unavoidable.

He rested his peeled clothing on the nearby bench, not taking too much care to fold them before retrieving a towel from his locker. The humming began to amplify as Sniper wrapped himself before moving to the stalls. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard the Spy hum before, and its mood fluctuated from joy to sorrow with each footstep he took to get closer. The nature of the song unnerved Sniper, and he decided as he rounded the corner he'd ask for the rogue to cut his performance early.

"Alright, spook, keep it do—" His voice shrunk, the faintest exhale turning into a squeak as he slowly realized before him wasn't the frenchman's lanky self, but rather a more stately figure that stood under the stream of the heated shower. The Sniper didn't move, didn't breathe—he could only feel within him a guttural sensation of fear and excitement, though he made sure to concentrate to keep his body from matching his feelings. He started to double back, but he was caught long before he realized it was too late to flee.

He glanced away and adjusted the cloth around his hips more as he moved past the man and towards the furthest stall away from him. The humming had come to a stop.

"Ah, guten morgen zhere...oh, Sniper." 

The accented voice was ignored as he moved past the man, steeling himself to not to look back and take glances. He decided it was in his best interest to suppress the muddled thoughts he had been harboring these past few days. Throwing his towel to the side, he turned the faucet and allowed heated pellets to fall upon him, and the sigh he emitted reverberated through the hollowed communes.

It stayed silent for some time, but his mind ran rampant with visions—both from his dreams, and certainly from his imagination. What was supposed to be a relaxing shower took a turn for the worst, a fight to not go back to the other end where that doctor was and press him up against the chilled tile. To watch him wriggle like a trapped animal was all Sniper could focus on.

Sniper clutched his head with both hands in an attempt to seize his thinking, growling at the fact that his mind and body refused to comply. 

He hadn't even noticed the other shower's faucet turn off.

He hadn't even noticed the sploshed steps moving towards his end of the showers.

A hand had reached and rested itself on his right shoulder, a hushed call to grab his attention following.

"Sniper, are you okay?"

He continued to keep hold of his head, before exhaling deeply and cutting his eyes at the German.

“I’m foine.”

Medic’s brow furrowed at the obvious lie before readjusting his own towel at the waist. 

“Alright, if you say so…I vill see you later on zhen, at zhe infirmary. Zhe earlier, zhe better.” 

Sniper watched as the Medic turned once more to look him in the eyes before exiting the shower and locker room entirely. 

A profound sense of grief rushed through the assassin as he let his arms fall limp to his sides. 

Who the hell was this man, tending to him like he was a child in need? His fists clenched and dug into his palms before an echoing thud reverberated through the empty room. He granted the sides of his hands, now pained from slamming them against the wall, relief under the falls.

The heat from the shower had exhausted, and the waters were getting colder, but his hands, his body, and surprisingly his heart stayed warm. 

\--

It was 5:02 by the time Sniper had finished cleansing and dressing. Trudging around in the base camp always made him uneasy, as it would never be as familiar to him as his van was. He originally planned on resting in his room, but that proved difficult every time he tried to lay down on a mattress that wasn’t worn in. 

He moved throughout the base, stopping here and there to look out the windows at the huge vessel that housed and released the daily waves of robots they were stationed to fight. Who knows how many more they’d have to kill before they could be stationed back at Teufort or Dustbowl, or anywhere but here for that matter. 

There was light shuffling that broke the huntsman from his thoughts, followed by the smell of menthols. Sniper huffed out, and this brought out a chuckle from his onlooker.

“Well, well Bushman, so nice of you to join us here at zhe base.” 

“Oh, cut the shit, Spook. You know I’ont like it here.”

“Oui, zhat I do know.” He decloaked with his usual caution, and Sniper heard the unfastening of metal from the Spy’s disguise kit. Sniper’s focus remained outside the window, but he peeked to see just exactly what he was doing. “Do you want a smoke?”

Sniper turned his attention to the Spy only to see him disguised as their own team’s Medic, closing in on him to offer him the fag. Taken aback, but quick to keep his resolve, Sniper snatched the smoke away and reached into his pocket for a lighter, mumbling something as the stick flailed between his lips.

“Oh, Sniper, you are always so fun to mess with!” He took off the disguise and laughed, but Sniper drew long before exhaling in disgust. 

“One of these days, Spook, you’re gonna rub me the wrong way.” Silence fell after the growled threat, and he turned to see a genuinely upset Spy moving to sit beside him on the window sill.

“I apologize,” he started, lighting himself a cigarette before carrying on. “Something has been bothering you as of late. And unless you suddenly have become afraid of the coyotes, you being on base means our Medic has told you to do so, non?” He toyed with watch as he waited for a response.

“What’s it to you anyways?” Sniper’s hiss only brought a smug grin to his adversary’s face.

“I talk to zhe Medic quite frequently. For zhe most part, he tells me everything, but zhis? Oh no, no, no, zhis he doesn’t speak a word about. I’m…observant enough to see that as of late, your performance has been lackluster--enough that a certain person must lie for you.”

“Yeah, and if you know what’s good for ya, you’ll keep your trap shut about it too.”

“And who would I tell? Look, you may be a sordid excuse of a human being with those god forsaken jars,” he rose and grabbed another smoke and lit it, “but I would never. You’re quite invaluable to the team.”

Sniper looked away from the window back at the Spy with cut eyes, though they softened when the Spy offered him another smoke with a grin. 

“What’re you after, Spook?” The question was hesitant as the Sniper took the gift and tucked it behind his left ear.

“Must I be after something?”

“Ya wouldn’t waste your time otherwise.”

The Spy let out a small chuckle before walking away. “I just want to know what our dear doctor is really up to, that’s all. Most certainly you do as well, else you wouldn’t be here.” 

Sniper fixed his attention back outside, where the colours of the skies slowly revealed themselves and their beauty with the rise of the sun. He had heard the cloaking device and figured the Spy had left, but the Spy stood there just a little bit longer to watch the Sniper.

He wanted to know what was going through that Bushman’s head, but more so why he reacted to his Medic disguise the way he did. 

\--

Around 8:30, Sniper had cursed the raccoon-hoarding simpleton that paraded throughout the barracks with his horn, screaming at the top of his lungs. Even as he stood outside to smoke his cigarette, he could hear the shouts of “Maggots!” over and over. He sighed on his last drag, throwing the filter to the ground and pressing it out with his boot before picking it up and returning inside. 

“Ayo, Snipes! Man, we got the day off today!” Greeted right at the front door by a scout jogging in place, he gently shoved the kid aside to get to the common area where some of the mercs were discussing something. Scout didn't take the hint though.

“An’ you know what that means! We can go in ‘ta town, and check out the babes—”

“Pipe down, kid.” He held his hand out before making his way towards the others. 

They hadn’t even noticed his existence at first, but it was after a few more swills and a hiccup did Demoman extend his arms and motion Sniper a bit closer. This brought a small smile to Sniper’s usual scowl.

“Ayee, it’s been too long, lad! Holin’ yerself up in that there van, we never get te see ya anymore! Drink?” He offered the huge bottle up to Sniper, but just shrugged and took another swig when Sniper declined. “Ye alright?”

“Hm? Yeah. Peachy.” The Scot threw him a look of skepticism before carrying on. 

“We don’t hav’ta work today. Som’thing about the respawn acting up. Engi’s working hard on it. If I wasn’t so drunk, I’d help out too, heh.”

“Sounds like an excuse, mate.”

“Oh, ye know me better than me sword ‘n mum! I plan on helpin’, it’s just Soldier woke me up in the worst kind’a way this mornin’.” 

“You are not only one, Demo.” Their attentions turned towards Heavy, who patted both his hands on their shoulders with a half-smile. “I was reading, yet little man continuously made noise. Had to put book down to finish later.” He glanced over to Soldier, who was now trying to scream some sense into Pyro. “If little man continues, I might have to crush his head in.” His voice escalated loud enough to catch the American’s attention, and he marched over to Heavy, helmet blocking what was an obvious face-off.

“Now listen here, you Commy! We wake up early here in America, so don’t give me any sass!” 

“Aye, Soldier," Demo advised, "I dun think you wanna anger the bear here. Don't be a bleedin’ fool.” Heavy glared down at the tin lid until Soldier finally backed off and carried on with Pyro—this time in a quieter fashion. 

Demo breathed over the mouth of his bottle as Heavy walked away with a winner’s smirk. “That could’ve went sour fast.” They both watched the bigger man go back towards his room, passing the other two Supports, who were deeply engaged in pleasant conversation of sorts. Sniper dipped his head low and watched them intently from the distance before they stopped their stroll and approached Demo.

Spy lit a cigarette and scoffed at the Scottish drunk, eyeing his bottle and then looking back at him. “A bit early in the morning, oui?”

“Don’t try te pick a fight ye can’t finish, snake.”

“Zhe man has a point though,” interjected Medic. “You should slow down a bit. Ve need you alive to kill zhe enemy. Und I don’t zhink I have any spare livers lying around, alzhough…” The Spy and Demo stared at their doctor with a new found horror before looking away when he became aware of their stares. Sniper was unfazed however, doing the best he could to look the opposite way. 

“Ah, nevermind. Sniper, you vere supposed to see me earlier.”

“Yeah,” was all he could muster out. Spy’s eyebrow rose in curiousity. 

“Vell, come on, I don’t have all day. Engineer hasn’t started on breakvast yet, so hopefully I can get zhis all vorked out before it’s time to eat.”

“Uh, hey Nurse, Engi’s not whippin’ up anything today,” Demo interrupted. “He’s busy workin’ on the respawn, since it’s been acting weird.”

“I see. Vell, all zhe more reason to not wait now. Come along.” Medic broke away from their circle and Sniper trailed after him a little bit later, grumbling and nodding  
goodbye to Demo. 

Spy moved to Demo’s side a bit closer, resting his elbow on his shoulder and moving in to his right ear. “I know a secret zhat you might not know about our dear Sniper.”

Demo was taken aback by this with a juvenile enthusiasm for whatever gossip Spy had for him. “Oh yeah? Well, go on, tell.”

“Non.”

“Oh, yer just a tease.” 

“He will tell you when he iz ready, for sure.” And with that, the Spy cloaked, leaving Demo to glance down at his bottle before finishing it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this edition of accent death match: "loike vs like"
> 
> Heavens guide me, holy hell.


	4. Chapter 4

“Just prop yourself up on that gurney zhere. I just need to grab a few supplies.”

“Right.” 

In Sniper’s five years of service as a mercenary there in the Badlands, he was very keen on skipping check-ups, simply because they were time consuming and trivial. So as long as he wasn’t bitten by a venomous snake or mangled by some animal, what sense did it make to see the doc? And even then, he knew how to take care of himself just fine. 

“Mmk, Sniper. Are you feeling any better from earlier?” The doctor moved his chair to sit in front of Sniper and sat poised with his hands placed firmly on his kneecaps. It was almost like he was holding himself back.

“That’a real question?”

“Standard procedure. I know you’re still not vell. It’s a good zhing we have zhe day off too. You’ll be in here vith me for zhe duration.”

Sniper almost jumped down out of protest, but Medic’s reflexes were surprisingly quicker, and he leaned in as he stared down at the assassin. “Nein. You _vill_ stay here.”

A scarlet hue had arisen on Sniper’s entire face as he made himself aware of Medic’s ungloved hand warmly pressed against his. 

“Lay off, Nurse!” His voice cracked before he cleared his throat, and Medic pulled away gently before plopping himself back in his chair. He pulled a nearby clipboard and summoned a pen to start scribbling with fervor before looking back up at the Australian.

“Vhy did you come here today?”

“Wot?”

“It vas a simple enough question,” Medic snapped back, slightly perturbed. 

“Not like I had much’a choice in the matter—”

“You’re a grown man. You could’ve easily not came, zhe same way you haven’t been all zhese years. So all of a sudden, you decide to come zhis once? Oh, please. I don’t make miracles, Sniper.” 

“If you’re try’na say something, you best be out with it.” The words rumbled dangerously off Sniper’s tongue—enough to reclaim the undivided attention of the doctor before him. He placed his notes down and stood up to move closer towards Sniper.

‘Do you vant me to help you get rid of zhe nightmares, Sniper?” The anger in Medic’s voice had been replaced with the softened tone of worry Sniper witnessed when he first was stopped at his van. 

Sniper looked away, and Medic rose. “Heh, maybe Spy vas right about you after all,” he laughed as he brought his chair around the back of his desk to begin what looked to be an endless amount of paperwork. He groaned and lifted a moderately thick stack, waving it at the huntsman.

“See zhis? Zhis is your report zhat I have to finish for zhe Administrator. Vhat vould you like me to write zhis time, Mm?”

“Write whatever you want. And what was that about the Spook?”

“Vouldn’t you like to know?” The Medic’s wink threw Sniper off his guard, and he turned his body to completely lay down on the stretcher.

It was silent for moments more. Sniper interlocked his hands and let them rest on his stomach as he peered over his aviators to the clock on the wall. 

He couldn’t make out the time. 

He looked back over to the Medic to see he was thoroughly engaged with his task. 

A light rapping on the door broke the silence however, and the doctor peered over his spectacles with great disgust.

“Get zhat for me, bitte.” 

With a grumble, Sniper rose and made his way, slowly opening the door to Medic’s office. When there was nobody there, he stepped out of the room to look down both ends of the corridor before realizing the door had closed behind him. Sniper’s eyes widened at the sight, but then relaxed once more when the door reopened and the cloying sound of a decloak rang through the air. 

“Mon ami, you are off your game. Also, you should stop giving zhe doctor a hard time. He is trying to help.” He smiled and turned around, moving towards the working man. Sniper uttered something under his breath before returning inside. 

“I see you are busy as always.”

“Ah, Spy. Vhat is it?” 

“I require zhat shot.” Medic stopped writing and an eyebrow rose.

“Oh? Going out tonight, are ve? Vell, give me a moment, let me just finish zhe last bits of this page.”

“Certainly. Iz zhat zhe Bushman’s file?”

“Ja.” 

“Helen will catch on very soon.”

“Ja, I know.” 

“Have you tried giving ‘im what you give me?” The doctor looked up from his work again, this time removing his glasses from his face to pinch at his ducts.

“Last time I checked, _I_ vas zhe one who does zhe diagnostics and treatments around here.” 

“My apologies. I am only trying to help.” 

Medic sighed. “I know, I know.” 

The two of them carried on, speaking about Sniper as if he wasn’t even there. The smug expression on the Spy’s face was unsettling; he wanted the Spook to get out and leave the other man alone. The logic behind that want however, wasn't entirely crystal.

“Oi, Spook.”

“What, Bushman?” Medic glanced over at Sniper as well. 

“I—never moind.”

“Were you about to ask me about zhe shot?”

“Oi…yea'.” 

The Spy let out a few snorts of laughter before composing himself. “Well, hurts like hell, but it most certainly takes zhe edge off—”

“Spy.” The Frenchman tensed up before turning around at an irritated Medic. “Come vith me to zhe back room. I’ll give you zhe shot, and you can be on your vay.” He pointed where he wanted the man to go. 

The Spy’s sinister grin reemerged before slinking off to one of the examination rooms. Medic huffed and followed closely behind. 

“Oh, Sniper. Stay put. Zhis will take roughly 10 minutes. Zhat means don’t go anywhere.” He carried on, closing the door upon entry, and Sniper heard two locks click and watched as the shades were shut tight.  
 _‘What kind of bloody shot takes 10 minutes to give?’_ , he pondered, fidgety on the cot. 

To pass the time, he glanced around the Medic’s office area and the small wings behind and to the side of his desk. It was a relatively sterile atmosphere, which was expected, though in a corner near a vent was a humongous aviary with a cloth draped over it. There wasn’t any cooing since he entered the office, or so he didn’t remember hearing, so he figured that particular cage was just one Medic didn’t use anymore. 

Medic’s desk was also impeccably straight, granted you ignored the stacks of paperwork. They were still orderly, yet Sniper couldn’t believe this entire workload was his. 

“Why doesn’t Paulin’ do this stuff too?”, he asked aloud to himself before hopping down to circle the desk.

Most of the files were about the injuries sustained on the battlefields; there were a few stacks on medical breakthroughs and proposals that he was supposed to review. 

Sniper didn’t want to touch anything, but he couldn’t help peeking at the inside of his file that Medic was working on earlier. 

He flipped it open, instantly chuckling at the initial photo of himself along with his neglected and forgotten birth name used on his ID forms and paperwork. Back then, his hair was much longer, and he remembered on the day of the photograph, he had fought the photographer tooth and nail about keeping his sunglasses on. It was a wonder they didn’t discharge him right then and there for unruly conduct. Guess they needed Mr. Mitchell’s sniping expertise more than they let on.

Looking past his picture, he noted Medic’s handwriting was incredibly neat, better than Sniper’s own chicken scratch. The rest of the team’s letters would look like cave drawings compared to his script, and as Sniper’s hand traced upon some of the letters, he realized what he was doing and pulled back slightly. 

There were slight murmurs coming from behind the barred door. Sniper hesitated before deciding it was safe enough to continue his snooping.

The file was relatively thin for the most part, and that made sense. Sniper did his best to stay out of the fray and do his job efficiently up in his nest. Most injuries were from bouts with the other team’s Spy, but he rarely went to the doctor for those, unless he happened to cross paths with him after the day’s battle concluded. 

Yet still, the Medic was somehow aware of every injury the Australian received on the job, with detail regarding each as well. Sniper flipped between the backlogs, wondering how a man he never saw had this much information. A gentle turn of the page for further analysis turned erratic as a screech pierced the room.

“Wot t'hell…” Sniper left the folder and crept closer towards the door and pressed his ear against it.

“Docteur, you did zhat on purpose.”

“I most certainly did not. You know better zhan I zhat zhis wasn’t going to be comfortable.” 

“Yet any ozher time you are gentle. Tell me, are you trying to get rid of me zhat fast? Iz it because you wish to… _tend_ to zhe Sniper—augh! _Merde_!”

“Zhere’s an _extra dose_.”

“You are cruel!”

“Oh, relax. Heavens knows you’ll need it if you’re going vhere I zhink you’re going tonight. You need to be careful, zhis mixture isn’t an ubercharge for your _friend_ , it’s an unstable emotional _sedative_ , and--” 

Sniper pulled away from the door to look at it in bewilderment before pressing back again.

“Yes, yes, I know, you explain zhis everytime…Ugh, thiz hurts. And I’m meeting someone in particular. It’s a date, no pick-ups tonight.”

“Zhat’s even worst. Ugh, just be careful. Can’t have zhe same thing zhat happened last Vinter happen again.”

“While zhe sentiment is appreciated, I will be fine…except for this.”

“Save it for your date—”

“Oh, Medic, you do it every ozher time—”

“I said no!”

Sniper had eased away from the door when Medic’s voice escalated. He scrambled as quietly as he could to go back and lay down on his gurney. He’d be damned if he was next to witness the German’s wrath. 

It was quiet for a few moments more before the two locks clicked again, and the Medic walked out of the room. 

“Docteur, zhis is embarrassing!” Spy’s voice cracked as Medic moved to remove his gloves once more to place them on his desk.

“Get over it,” he replied as he sat back down. He touched his paperwork and looked at the falsely asleep Sniper. “I didn’t leave zhis open…”

“Medic!”

“Spy, get out of here! Just cloak.”

“…Zhat is a good idea,” he heard from the other room. Medic sucked his teeth and ignored the cloaking sounds. He didn’t see him, but when papers shifted about, he assumed Spy was sitting on top of his desk.

“Zhank you, Medic. Maybe next time you can be as hospitable as you always are, non?”

“Vhere is my ubersaw…”

“I’m leaving. And tell zhat Sniper he would never make a good Spy.” Sniper turned away from the two men to his side, hiding a hard swallow of discovery. When he heard the door open, he thought Spy had left. 

Instead, the Frenchmen startled the Sniper with a low whisper that even Medic couldn’t hear in his left ear. 

“Bushman, try not to upset our dear Medic. He’s under a great deal of stress. And keep what you heard to yourself. Ozherwise, there’ll be a replacement Sniper.” Before Sniper could return the threat, the cloaked man had closed the Medic’s office door and was on his way.

Silence loomed once more in the barren room, and Sniper wasn’t particular in facing the doctor with the questions he had. His back tensed and his shoulders stiffened as he squeezed his eyes shut. Why did it matter what the shot was for? And it wasn’t his business what the Spy and Medic’s rituals were regarding said procedures, because…they were just procedures, right? Medical procedures.

Sniper had replayed those words in his head a few times before his brow unintentionally furrowed. He decided once the Doc was finished whatever tests, he would go back to his van and keep it locked for the next few days. They wouldn’t fire him if he was sick, as Medic’s reports would back up his disappearance for recovery. The plan was coming together in the Australian’s head slowly and surely, up until his concentration broke and he felt a touch graze across his back. Reflexively, his muscles tensed up even more, and the hand had retracted.

“Sniper, you don’t have to act like you are asleep, I’m in no vay upset with you. Spy can be a pain in zhe arsch at times…greedy, too.”

Sniper didn’t reply, but listened intently as the Medic prattled on.

“I’d be curious to know as vell vhat my doctor was writing about me.” The huntsman flinched as he heard the closing of a folder, along with the crinkled noise of papers waving in the air. 

Sniper shifted on the gurney back towards Medic’s desk, only to be surprised that Medic had quietly brought his chair back over to sit next to him. There was a rolling cart as well to the side of him, with different vials filled with different coloured substances.

“What’s that whole shot business about with the Spook?”

“Oh, vell,” Medic hesitated, scratching behind his neck, “everyone knows our Spy has certain tendencies, but he really is a nice guy. Though, people in zhe past haven’t been so nice to Herr Spy, and zhe way he handles stress isn’t always…healthy. Sure, ve have ze battlefield as an outlet, but sometimes, zhat’s just not enough for him.  
“But enough of zhat, sit up for me, vill you?”

Sniper complied, eyes lidded from looking down at the doctor, who had leaned in close and took his left wrist. 

“Ah,” he huffed before looking another way.

“Somezhing wrong? Are you hurt?”

“N-nah.”

“Then vhat’s zhe matter?” Medic pulled away, and Sniper looked at the fear in the man’s eyes.

“Doc, I’m—I’m fine. Ya hands ‘a just cold.” Medic inhaled lightly with surprise before looking over to his table at his gloves. “Ya don’t need those, it’s foine.” Medic turned back to the Australian with a warmed smile.

“Very vell. I’m going to begin a long overdue physical. You can start by unbuttoning your shirt.”

Sniper swallowed down hard, hesitant to comply. “Do I have ‘ta?”

The Medic looked away from the table with the syringes and supplies in question. “Ja.”

Each button to his uniform unfastened slower than they should have, with an immense fear regarding his adolescent attraction to the man before him. 

Yet Medic sat patient enough, with a slight grin visible by the upturned corners of his lips. When the shirt finally made its way off, Sniper set it on his lap and awaited Medic’s next moves.

“It’s chilly.”

“Ja, I know. It has to be zhat vay down here. Sit on zhe edge, I’m going to check your vitals.”

Before Sniper had the chance to nod, he flinched at the chilled metal that pressed up against his chest, close to his heart, and focused on the slightest touch of Medic’s fingers on his chest. 

Medic pulled away and looked up at Sniper with an eyebrow of concern before removing the stethoscope. “Sniper, are you okay? Your heart rate is steadily increasing.”

“Oi think...yeah...I need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Medic made space between him and his patient, and the huntsman darted towards the back where he thought the bathroom would be. “Vait, it’s to zhe lef—okay zhen.” 

Sniper hastily locked the door and turned on the faucet to splash his face with cool water. He cussed loudly enough to attract Medic’s attention once more, but ignored the questions being shouted at him through the other end of the door. 

“Fuck,” was all he could muster at the feeling of entrapment, and discomfort, and _arousal_ , and—

There was a tapping at the door, and Sniper glared at it as if it were to open. 

“Sniper! Are you okay? Sniper, answer me!”

“I’m foine! Can I piss in peace?”

A softened sigh was heard before steps faded away from the door. Sniper rested his back against the steel barricade, easing down it onto the floor. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, before sighing again and reaching for his belt buckle.

The hastened unfastening of his pants was delayed by fumbling, eager hands, and upon slight removal of his constraints, cool air rushed upon his body. Chest still bare from Medic’s prodding, he eased his hands down his abdomen further in before letting out a sigh. Replaying the instance of Medic’s naked hands touching upon his skin had worked the Australian up in an unusual way, and as he braced himself further against the door, the first few strokes felt like shock waves of relief and tension throughout his body.

Calloused hands always made the chaste pulls hair-raising at first, and Sniper was reluctant to loosen his grip on himself. He barely scanned the bathroom for some form of lubricant before cussing again at the slight mixture of dissatisfaction, angst and pleasure. He bit down on the corner of his bottom lip and slowly focused on himself until the first beads of pre-cum surfaced at the tip, slathering it amongst the entirety of his shaft the best he could without an audible moan. 

The water had been running in the bathroom for roughly ten minutes, and Medic had repeatedly glanced at the door slightly with worry, and another bit curiousity. He knew the Sniper had been unstable lately, between bad field performance and odd dreams that virtually had the Australian calling his name. Medic cleared his throat and took to a mirror from inside his desk to confirm a slight flush on his own face he was embarrassed to have. 

The Medic adjusted his glasses, and began some deep breathing in an attempt to exhale personal thoughts of ‘what ifs’ in order to steel himself back to the rigid team doctor everybody took him for. A glance at the clock above the infirmary’s door had settled his mind; he had the key to the bathroom, and if Sniper didn’t open the door in three minutes, he would pull him out of there himself. 

If there were any thoughts or feelings holding Sniper back before, they were hissed away. His hands felt divine with the quickened pace, and the thrill of getting caught only spurred him on even more. His toes flexed and curled inside worn-in work boots and his back arched against the barrier separating him from his fantasy.  
Nearing losing himself, with tiny beads of sweat forming around his hair line, he tuned in to the heels of boots nearing the bathroom. 

“Fuckin’ nurse,” he mumbled, steady breathing apparently a challenge. He wanted the Medic to see him like this, writhing and panting, hips bucking to their own rhythm. Sniper ultimately was praying he’d force the barred door open only to find him on the floor, hands tugging and cupping himself with greed. He wanted to see the look of shock on his face, especially one where his jaw would drop open, and he could see the inside of his mouth and—

Sniper’s face scrunched as his muscles tightened before a jutted release that left his pants and the floor a mess. Semen had trickled down his shaft with the occasional pulse that shot a bit farther away, and Sniper had to use his left hand to muffle a pure grunt that could have doubled as a whimper. He looked down at what had become of him, and then threw his head back against the door to hear the eeriest silence.

Coming down from his high, the running faucet was audible again, and his mind had replayed what he just done with new found horror. He looked down and tried to clean off the small stains with water and toilet paper, but the cheap stuff left residue on his pants. He snarled as he tried to hurry everything along before the doctor suspected something.

Medic couldn’t move from the other side of the door.

He stood there, half leaned against it with his own mouth covered. 

He wondered if his face had been red, if the Sniper knew he was there. His boots were loud enough, so he figured the Sniper knew he was on the other side.

But he didn’t want to be found waiting outside the door, at least not like this. Medic’s imagination was still active, rampant, and when the water finally shut off, the doctor stood stiff against the door. Sniper was going to open it any second then, and he wasn’t quite prepared to professionally greet him, not with him still wondering what the other man was doing in there.

“Doktor!”

“Ja?” A strained yet relieved cry was followed by the jogged footsteps that faded away from the restroom door. How lucky was the Medic, who internally was screaming at himself to get it together. It was none other than the Heavy Weapons guy, who grinned ear to ear with some lengthy Russian piece of literature in his hand. “Ja, Herr Heavy, vhat is wrong?”  
“I came by to play chess,” he started, tilting his head to assess his friend, “but Doktor, you do not seem vell. Your face, is full of blood.” Medic looked away and moved around to sit at his desk before readdressing the portly man. 

“Ah,” he started, before hearing the bathroom door close. He quickly glanced at Sniper, who obviously seem disheveled and somewhat flimsy. The Australian staggered to a nearby infirmary bed and threw himself onto it, tossing his hat over his eyes. Medic’s eyes widened at the sight before shifting his eyes back to the Heavy Weapons Guy.

Apparently, he was being talked to.

“Hmm?”

“You should not be healing little sick men if you yourself are sick.” Heavy rounded the table and took the Medic by the shoulders. “Come. You need to lay down. I will watch office until you feel better.” With minimal effort, Heavy lifted the German to his feet and nudged him to the empty bed next to where Sniper was recuperating. 

“There. Rest. I will watch office and wake you if help is needed.”

“Zhank you, Heavy,” Medic hesitated. As his guardian walked away, he straightened himself on the bed, interlocking his fingers upon his chest. Staring at the ceiling had not quelled his restless mind. Periodically, his eyes would shift over to the bed beside him, glancing at the Sniper’s taupe akubra in question. Eventually, when he deemed it safe, Medic turned to his side to watch the Australian—partially for medical purposes and partially for pure curiousity.

Vell, he seems to be sound asleep, he thought as his eyes stayed fixated on his chest. It rose and fell in a soothing manner, which helped ease some of the doctor’s earlier discomforts. Sniper, just like most people—except Scout—were pleasing to watch rest. 

Still, there was something quite intriguing about the sleeping Australian that the doctor couldn’t quite describe.  
 _Vell, it is good to see him rest zhis peacefully, right?_ He smiled as the question faded from his mind, and he moved to turn his head on the pillow to relax.

“Ya done gawkin’ at me mate?”

The German’s eyes widened at the ceiling before he rapidly turned back towards the bushman.

“Oi know when someone’s lookin’ at me, ‘specially ovah long periods o’ time.” The Medic stood silent, watching the hat move up and down as he spoke. “Looks loike you won’t be doin’ your examination. Means I can go, roight?”

“Nein!” Medic rose up and shouted, grabbing the attention of Heavy. He plopped himself back on the bed in frustration as the burly man made his way from the Medic’s desk.

“Doktor?”

“Nozhing Heavy , I’m fine.”

Heavy frowned and shook his head at the doctor before turning to walk away. Medic sighed and scowled at Sniper’s hat when he heard a small snicker come from inside it.

“You can’t get avay. I _vill_ get my test results.”

The brim of Sniper’s hat had been tilted to the side, and his eyes cut to look at the man. “Yeah, but not today, ye ain’t.”

“I vill—” Medic lowered the anger in his voice before carrying on, “I _vill_ be seeing you today, just as soon as Heavy deems me fine. In fact, I zhink I vill do zhat now.”

“He ain’t gonna let you up from that bed, so ya moight as well stick around a bit and just rest.” Sniper started to return the hat to cover his face as Medic grumbled under his breath. “Besides, you’re overworked anyway.”

“Vhat?” Medic wasn’t sure he heard correctly. 

“Nothin’. Just take a nap ‘a somethin’. He’ll be outta here sooner than you think.”

“No, I don’t need rest, and you’ll just slip out of here—” Sniper cocked his head towards the Medic once more before sitting up on the bed. He rested his arms over his  
knees, waving and pointing his hat at the doctor.

“Everybody needs sleep, and you of all people know that. O’im not here as much as I use ta be, but I know just by lookin’ at ya, you don’t get enough rest.” Sniper’s brow had furrowed deeper before throwing himself back to recline again. “Besides, you need ta fix my own problems, so I can’t leave even if oi wanted ta.”

The hat was placed over his face once last time before silence fell again. Medic sighed and turned away from the assassin, pulling the starched sheet over him. He wanted to keep observing his subject, but he figured just this once he would close his eyes and rest for just a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sniper, get your emotions together, ffs, you're a grown ass man
> 
> Pfft, just kidding. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**_“Oi, Doc.”_ **

Medic’s eyes scattered among his surroundings. “Vhere am...” He found himself on a rug in the floor of someone’s room, but he couldn’t figure out whose. He noticed a bookshelf that was filled with manuals on different rifles and SMGs, along with a few basic chemistry books on the top shelf. A glance to the right of where he was revealed another shelf full of clean mason jars paired with a few bags of Australian-brand coffee beans.

“Is zhis…Sniper’s room?” He shifted his legs and hear the sounds of crunching paper. There were magazines beneath him, including the magazine from his camper van he had secretly taken. “How did he get zhis back?”

_“Doc.”_

The doctor looked from the center of the room where he was over to his left. There was mild discomfort as he gazed upon the lanky man, who was bleeding slowly from his chest on the bed.

“Sniper, vhat happened? Let me tend to zhat right away!” The Medic fumbled around his room for the mandatory first aid kit when Sniper cut him off and laughed.

“Wot happened? Mate, this was all you.” 

The Medic stopped in his tracks and his jaw dropped. “Vhat are you talking about?”

“Aww, don’t make that face. Even though ya look good loike that, I hate t’see ya down.” Medic shifted on the floor again.

“Vhat did you say to me--”

“Look, mate, it’s not your fault. You said you wanted to test your own drug, and I told ya I’d do it, but y’ said y’ didn’t wanna risk it. It backfired at first, but with a little…encouragement, it worked roight as rain.”

Medic stared dumbfounded as the blood trickled off his chest and onto his beige sheets. He hadn’t a single clue what was going on. 

“Well, you look confused as all hell. Alroight, c’mere.” Sniper beckoned Medic over to him, patting the edge of the bed and extending an open arm. Medic almost went, but he hesitated once more and cringed. 

“Vhat…vhat vas zhe drug?”

“Ya didn’t wanna tell me, but it got you riled up, that’s fer sure.”

“I…I can’t remember anyzhing.” 

Sniper chuckled, now rubbing the spot where he wanted Medic to be. “Well that’s a damn shame. If ya loike though, we can try the experiment again. I don’t moind a few more cuts like this if it means you’re enjoying yourself.”

Sniper slinked from off the bed over to the floor where the steady drips blood trailed on the floor until he crawled over top the Medic. 

“Sni—”

“You still calling me by my class when I told you it was Liam?” Medic was pressed down onto the magazines, and Sniper towered over his face with a menacing grin. “Ya got another one of ‘em vials on the table. Ya want me to inject ya now—”

“Vait!” Medic scurried from beneath the cage that was the Australian, but was clutched by his hips and dragged back underneath him. 

“You really tryna run away?”

“I have to tend to zhat vound!” It was the only escape Medic had.

“Aww, I’m sorry mate. I’ll lay down and you can do what you did before.”

“Before?” 

Sniper rolled beside Medic on the floor and tucked his hands behind his head. With only his workpants semi-on with belt unbuckled and zipper partially undone, Medic had an increasingly hard time focusing on finding the med kit that was tucked somewhere in the room. Sniper didn’t help the situation either; every time the Medic turned around to look under his bed or drawer, the Australian’s hand would wander up his leg, or press into the indentations on his calves. 

“Sniper, cut it out,” he whined. He tried to focus on finding the supplies in Sniper’s untidy room, but it was particularly difficult for him to not grunt at the much needed  
massage. Who knew the Sniper’s hands could be so gentle enough to knead him into a state of bliss? 

“Oi, nurse, here.” Sniper held in his hand the kit, and Medic snatched it away from him, scowling at the other man. 

“You had zhis all along? Vhat zhe hell!”

“You looked tense, so I was try’na make ya feel a little better.” Medic wanted the man to touch his some more, but he looked away and opened the kit. “Don’t vorry about m—mmph!” Sniper had laid his hand on the doctor’s chest before planting his lips on Medic’s, gripping him from his shoulders and pulling him near. The anger on Medic’s face instantaneously melted into a pooling need for the attention to never cease. 

Sniper pulled away and rubbed his hand on the incisions made on his chest before smiling back up to the doctor. 

“Only you can make bein’ cut up feel so good.”

“Sniper, I didn’t mean to do zhis to you,” he trailed off, fingers tracing his own lips in shock. 

The Australian moved onto his side, propping his head up with his arm. “No worries, mate. Besides, even loopy, you gotta steady hand wit’ a scalpel. It hurt at first, but…ya distracted me from the pain. Those hands a’yours,” he started, reaching over to pet them, “they are somethin’ to behold, among other things.” Tugging at the doctor’s belt, Sniper moved his body closer, slowly grinding against Medic’s hip. Words escaped the German completely as he stood stupefied, blood from the Aussie’s chest smearing on his white coat. 

He liked that more than anything else.

There was an attempt to look the other way as Sniper got more aggressive, pulling at his gloves and coat, and having his way with him. So lost in nebulous thought was Medic that he didn’t even feel Sniper climb over top of him once more. 

“Doctor, ya want that shot now?” Sniper rumbled in Medic’s ear, and his physical excitement could no longer be hidden. 

A little “Hmm?” was all that could be uttered as Sniper raked his teeth along the doctor’s neck. Medic bit down on his bottom lip to not make any further sounds. 

“Oh, don’t be all shy now. Oi know exactly what you like.” Sniper’s bleeding had slowed as the blood started to coagulate, but he picked at the wound until it began to bleed again, and Medic protested at the mutilation. 

“Y’sure y’don’t want this, love?” One finger had taken the salty syrup and grazed it over Medic’s lips, and that riled the man up enough to get Sniper grinning.

“Look at ye. You love this. You’re a dirty little sadist, aren’t ye?” Sniper plunged his blood-coated finger into Medic’s mouth and pressed it lightly against his tongue before easing his finger in and out again. 

“Doctor, you’re practically a rock down there,” he whispered as he felt up his prey. “Does it hurt?” 

Medic nodded slightly in desperation.

“Oi can take care of that, no problem. You just let me know when you want it—”

_“Now, bitte_ ,” Medic’s cry eased through the room in a frantic plea, which took Sniper by pleasant surprise. 

“Mm, that’s right, Doc…

_“Doctor…”_

 

**_“Docteur!”_ **  


“A-angh…”

His back arched up off the bed as a soft wave of relief washed over him. After resting down, he opened his eyes and batted them twice to see not the Sniper from before.  
It took a moment for him to realize that it was just a dream.

But the gentlemen blushing and sitting at the edge of his bed was no dream. 

“Docteur,” the voice started, “did you…?”

Still recuperating, Medic looked back at the ceiling and then under the sheets. Sharp cusses spewed from his tongue, and that in turn made his onlooker laugh.

“Mon ami, you are quite cute.”

“...Shut up, Spy.” He looked back under the sheets again, and then swore some more before the Spy put his index finger to his lips and then pointed beyond Medic. 

“He is sleeping. I don’t zhink you want to wake him up, non?”

Both heads turned to look at the floppy hat rise and fall repeatedly before Spy cleared his throat.

“Zhe Heavy said you were not feeling well. I told him I would relieve him of babysitting you—”

“I told him I vas perfectly fine. Ugh, get up, I need to clean myself off.” Spy eased from his spot on the bed and watched Medic fumble with the ruined sheets. The Medic paid no mind to his teammate as he disrobed his lab coat and boots, cussing in between every unfasten and every unlace. 

“Zhat must have been a hell of a dream,” Spy chuckled, earning himself a terrifying glare. “Oh, lighten up a little. Most men don’t get to feel vhat you just did at our ages. You of all people know zhis well.”

“Oh please, spare me your comforts. Vhat are you doing here anyvay, shouldn’t you be getting ready for later?”

“Zhe preparations for tonight are already complete. But enough about me. What happened in zhat dream of ‘ours, mm?” The Spy smiled, playing with his balisong, circling it in the general direction of Medic’s mishap.

“I don’t vant to talk about it.” Medic’s voice moused as he carefully rose from the bed.

“Are you ashamed?”

“Vhat? Vhy would I be?” 

“No reason, mon ami.”

Medic bundled up the bedding and his belongings before moving past Spy. “No smoking in here, I always know vhen you try” was whispered with force before he turned a corner to go to his back office.

With nothing to do, Spy lingered about, positively curious as to what was going on through the German’s head moments prior. He had come in when he was sound asleep, but in a matter of moments Medic was tossing, turning and palming at his sides, and Spy wanted to know what spurred that intense display along.

A few grunts broke the Frenchman from his train of thought, and he moved to sit next to the new source of noise.

“Ah, monsieur Bushman. Good evening.”

“Evenin’? Well…how long oi been out for?”

“I wouldn’t know, I just got here not too long ago myself.”

“Some help you a’. Where’s the doc?” Spy laughed in response.

“He had a little… _accident_ , so he went to the back to freshen up I presume.”

Sniper’s eyes squinted at the menacing grin, hoping to get more of a story out of him than he was giving. “You can ask him what happened yourself, when he comes back.”

“N-nah. I don’t care.”

“Oh, come now, you can’t lie to me—”

“Spook you keep it up, ‘n that little French neck of yours is gonna get cut clean off.”

“Zhere is no need for violencei—we are on the same side,” he hummed. He stood up and moved to peer down the hall before taking out a cigarette.

“Roight, whatever. What are you doin’ in here anyway? Didn’t you have someplace to be?”

Spy patted himself down for a lighter before dragging a bed stool over to the nearest air vent. As soon as he stood up on it and flicked the flint wheel, an arrow blitzed past him, merely missing the Frenchman’s cheek. Cigarette dropping from his lips, he crashed landed off the stool, looking past the corridor to see his assailant and then back at the stolen swatch of material from his balaclava tacked to the nearby wall.

**“Try me, Spy!”**

“M-mon dieu! You could have killed me!” 

“Better me to kill you und harvest your organs zhan you killing yourself und my patient!”

“Oh please, zhe Sniper smokes too— _Merde_!” Another arrow ripped through Spy’s jacket, taking a swatch with it onto the wall. “Alright! Not zhe suit! Zhe both of you are violent savages! You would zhink you'd be calmer after zhat episo--Okay, okay! I'll keep quiet!”

The Medic, who was shuffling through the walkway, was now visible to all parties in the room. Crossbow in hand, the German seethed at the disobedient guest who almost sullied the atmosphere of his clinic. 

“Next time, I _vill_ strike true,” he started before turning to his side to see his patient awake. “Oh, hallo zhere Sniper.”

“Doc,” he mumbled, eyeing the erect bolts in the wall. 

Spy had already tucked his fag behind his ear and recomposed himself. “Did you forget zhe respawn is still busted?” 

“ _Did you forget I have a Medigun_?” he sang back. “Don’t test me again Spy.” He moved to remove the cigarette from his ear and proceeded to push him out towards the door of the office.

“W-wait, Docteur, I came to speak with you—”

The Medic stopped and sighed, pinching his ducts. “I know vhat you came to talk to me about. I vill talk to you about it later…no side effects so far zhough, right?” 

“No. And zhank you.” Spy smiled, even though he was still met with a scowl. “Also, I am curious as to what got 'ou so excited. Surely we can talk about it over some wine—”

“No.” He looked everywhere except at the grinning face before him. 

“Come now. You know I vill eventually find out. In all zhese years, never have you been so secretive with me. Tell me, zhat dream didn’t happen to feature our dear Sniper, did it?”

Medic’s eyes widened before closing in defeat. “Get out, Spy. I need to shower, und I need to give Sniper his physical.”

“But of course.”

Spy exited the doctor’s office, standing a moment longer outside the door just shut on him. It was true the doctor hadn’t really hid much from him, mainly because they were so close. But this odd behavior was intriguing and terrifying for the Frenchman. Sure, he was a man of adaptation, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the Medic go through such emotional swings in such a short amount of time. It was a potential threat to their friendship, he thought.

Spy reached for his disguise kit once more, pawing at a cigarette. He looked at the picture he kept of him and Scout’s mother, remembering how the Medic jokingly stated that particular display of affection was the only indication and proof of the Spy's humanity. 

He lit up and filled his lungs to the brim before easing the smoke out of his nose. Leathered fingers grazed over the image before he pushed it aside to reveal a second, more vibrant photo of him and the Medic at a local bar a few years back. Viewing it curled a private smile on Spy’s face, but the more he reminisced, the quicker it disappeared. He rearranged his kit and closed it before puffing once more and walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn it Medic, you're no better
> 
> Also, the return of the 'roight'! (a secret cry for help)


	6. Chapter 6

“Doc, where’d you learn to shoot?”

“ _Verdammt Spy..._ ” he mumbled, still facing the door, hands on hips.

“Doc?”

 _“Vhat?”_

After Medic had slammed the door on the intrusive Spy, he found his rage had been supplanted with growing confusion. The Sniper hadn’t said much since he re-emerged, but rather on-and-off looked his way. Perhaps that was for the better, he thought. Perhaps he wouldn’t ask questions at all. He straightened himself tall before turning to face the Australian. 

“Nah, I guess the better question would be—”

“I taught myself. Vell, not entirely. I’ll tell you more after I...give you your check-up.” 

Sniper was no fool. It was far too obvious that the doctor was avoiding direct eye contact. 

“Hey, mate. If you want, I can come back t'morrow or somethin'. It’s already apparently evenin’—”

“Evening? No, it’s only,” Medic cut himself off and backed a few paces to get a view of the clock. 

16:13. Where the hell had the day gone?

“It’s a quarter past.”

“Can I...”

 _“Vhat_?” Medic snapped.

“Did an experiment go wrong while I was asleep or something?”

“Experime—” Medic turned toward his desk and messed with the papers. His nervous habits would bring him more work of organizing later, but then, it was for the best.  
“Yes, it seems I had botched an alternative formula for zhe Medigun. Though zhat vould have never happened, had you not needed to use the bathroom earlier,” he trailed off, moving back over to the cart of vials entertained earlier. 

Medic was expecting a reply, a retort, something, but he was returned with silence and an averted gaze.

“Come here, Sniper,” he sighed, pointing at the gurney in the operating theatre. 

“Wot?”

“Get over here, vhile zhere are no interruptions. I’ll make zhis quick, und relatively painless.” 

“Relatively?” he queried, shuffling over to the Medic and looking him square on. “It’s a bloody checkup, not an operation!”

“I’ll be zhe judge of zhat, Sniper.” 

What would have been a sign to flee in the other direction turned into something welling up in Sniper that was ready to burst at any moment. No matter how terrifying the doctor looked with teeth bared and eyes mad, and no matter how sinister his silent chortles were, they became sensory overload for the man. He clutched his akubra, shoving it over his eyes a little more before moving where he was summoned to.

“Now zhat you had your little nap, you should be a bit calmer zhan before, mm?” The older man reached around for his stethoscope and moved in close to Sniper’s chest once more—but not before gingerly removing the Aussie’s hat. “Sniper, relax.”

“You tellin’ me ta relax when you got about five things over there yer about ta prick me with.” The growing flush on his face alerted Medic of his supposed fear, and he responded with a light touch to his shoulder.

“Relax. I von’t hurt you if you cooperate. Most of zhose are sedatives—vell, one is anyway.” 

Medic pressed the chilled utensil against Sniper’s chest and listened to the lull of Sniper’s heart. It had its own melody, its own song that rivaled that of Archimedes and his other avian companions. It didn’t drum and rumble his eardrums like Heavy’s did, nor was it the drunken, arrhythmic droning provided by the Demo’s heartbeats.

No, this was a fine specimen which was sharp with every thump, yet relaxed despite his ample caffeine intake. This was a heart he’d like to watch and see in action, a heart he’d like to research and get to know better.

This was a heart he wanted to own for himself.

Sniper shifted underneath Medic before clearing his throat. “Ya done mate? It ain’t gonna beat no slower.”

“On zhe contrary,” he smiled, glancing back at Sniper with newfound discovery. “It’s picking up in pace again.” He listened for a little while longer just to sate his fascination before pulling away. “Are you afraid of me, herr Sniper?”

“Afraid?” 

“I didn’t stutter, did I?” The doctor pushed aside the rolling cart of mystery serums before coming back with a thermometer and his file.

A low growl came from the bushman. Of course he was afraid of the older man. He had broken him into a catastrophic mess of bewildering emotions over the course of two days, and there were no tell-tale signs of this attraction fading away. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat once more and exhaling.

“Nah. Now c’mon, get on wit’ this, I got a gun ta clean back home.”

“Fine. Inhale deep, from your gut.” 

Medic’s hand had made itself comfortable on Sniper’s abdomen once again to gauge Sniper’s breathing. Every rise and fall in his chest cavity made the urge to operate a trifle bit stronger. 

“Doc?”

Even with the stethoscope still pressed, it wasn’t enough. He removed the device from his ears and placed it somewhere to the side. “Hold on,” was all he uttered before pressing his ear against the man’s chest. 

A loud gasp was heard—most likely in protest—but the doctor could care less. It had been a long time since he was so adamant about someone’s body like this, and if Sniper was uncomfortable, he’d have to deal with it for a few seconds more. He closed his eyes and just listened to the inner workings of the Australian. His heart was thumping even faster, and the doctor soon discovered that the slightest brush of his ear against any of the hairs on his abdomen resulted in a mild spasm from the man. 

“Spy tell you why he came in here?” Sniper’s voice was heavy, but it was just what the Medic needed to snap him back to the reality of what he was doing. He pried himself from Sniper’s chest, avoiding all eye contact, before moving back to his desk to grab his gloves. 

“No,” he lied. The reason was obvious to Medic—words didn’t need to be exchanged, but he still entertained the Sniper’s question. “Did he tell you somezhing? Somezhing I should know?”

“Nah, he didn’t.” The conversation didn’t matter to him. It got the man to remove his face from his body—a strategically sound move on Sniper’s point to avoid having a re-run of earlier.

The rest of the check-up was relatively quiet between the two. After checking blood pressure—which, was abnormally low according to Medic—Sniper sat with his usual patience as the doctor filled out the last of his charts.

“Vell, for zhe most part, your vitals are fine. I’m assuming that this lack of sleep and lack of food is zhe only reason your body is off kilter.”

Sniper sat and watched him scribble some more. “Hey, Doc?”

“Ja, Sniper?”

“Uh,” he coughed, hesitant, “Can I put my shirt back on?”

“Oh, of course, go right ahead, unless you wish to stay cold.” Medic’s voice trailed off, almost in disappointment.

“Thanks mate. So no operations, right?”

“You seem fine to me. Of course, if you want to go under my knife, all you have to do is ask.” A devious smile warped the Medic’s lips, leaving Sniper crept out.

“Nah, I’ll pass. I kinda like my body, it being in one piece ‘n all.”

Medic plopped down in the chair he pulled over towards the gurney and sat back in it. Sniper watched him, careful to not seem desperate, careful to not let him know that just about anything he could do would set him off. 

“Vell, you are free to go,” Medic hummed. But Sniper didn’t move. Rather, he just locked eyes intensely with the German, not entirely certain about the reaction his stares would bring.

An eyebrow quirked before a faint smile emerged. “I zhought you had a gun to clean.”

“I do.” The assassin looked away, scratching behind his head before looking back. “It’s just that—”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Wot?”

“Over zhere.” Medic pointed to the patient resting area. “Did you sleep okay? Vere zhe dreams bothzering you?”

“I…I didn’t really dream up nothin’.”

“Oh? Vell, zhat’s good news, now isn’t it? Can’t have you bleeding out in gruesome vays, right?” 

Sniper didn’t reply. He sat with his hands folded, clenching his teeth hard. He dropped down from the stretcher, and tipped his hat to the doctor before making his way towards the door.

"V-vait!” He sprang from his seat, and a ragged, emasculated cry called the Aussie to a halt. “Zhat vas er, insensitive of me, I’m sorry.” The words of regret rolled off his tongue, a foreign language of its own. Medic closed the folder and set it at the corner of his desk before adjusting his glasses, and his pitch.

“I vas out of line, I didn’t mean to make fun of your situation—”

Still nothing from the Australian.

“—I mean, I know zhis has been causing you distress for zhe past few weeks, I shouldn’t be so unprofessional,” _Or stupid and childish_ , he carried on mentally.

“—Look, zhis is going to take time. You’re…tense, zhis much is obvious to me, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s bothzering you.”

The Sniper leered at him, door handle still clutched. 

“I…I know you might not like mein kind—eh, doctors, zhat is—but if you continuously see me, I’m certain you’ll have less nightmares—”

The silence irked the man, not knowing whether to keep apologizing or give up entirely and shut up.

“I slept well, Doc,” Sniper whispered.

“Really?”

“No dreams, no nothing.” He looked to the door to avoid facing the man who granted him asylum from his horrid bot perversions, and smiled. “Must’ve been because I was exhausted,” he trailed off.

“Exhausted? You just voke up vhen you came in here, right?” 

Eyes widening at Medic’s impending discovery, Sniper cleared his throat and turned the handle to the door. “Never mind. Listen, is it possible you can stop by my van later on tonight?”

Medic’s head lifted from pensive thought and stared. “Vha—V-very well, vhat time vere you zhinking?”

“Around 11’s good. Midnight, if that suits your schedule better—”

“Vhy so late?” Medic’s voice cracked before he cleared his throat and fixed his tie in assurance.

“Because that’s the time oi normally sleep. I’ll keep it unlocked. See ya then.” 

“R-right. Very vell, see you…later zhen, Sniper.” 

“Yeah. Thanks mate.” Sniper had lingered out the door, taking care to close it gently behind him. Parting the baffled older man left Sniper tickled; the Aussie found it quite endearing, charming even, seeing the doc utterly confused yet struggling to conceal it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Medic just fills vials with various things to make his office seem more intimidating.
> 
> Last week, he filled one syringe with dish soap, another with herbal tea, and another with an aromatic blend of lavender, myrrh and potassium cyanide.


	7. Chapter 7

So, you’re a…what again?” Copper curls forcibly bounced on a head that repeatedly cocked at the end of a question.

“Lapin, let us just say zhat I am a man of many talents.”

“Ooh, you sound like you just hopped out of a movie! One of those action ones, yeah!” Spy had lifted the decanter placed upon the dressed table to pour some more wine for the both of them. 

She was talkative, and oddly open, but perhaps this was what the women were like in these parts, he figured. He mulled, silently sipping and observing the woman sitting across from him. Normally, Spy would be turned away from females with messy hairstyles and asymmetrical dresses with gaudy colours that assaulted the eyes, but this particular lady was interesting to analyze, on a psychological level. He wondered how screwed up he must be, to promise a date only to unravel some random woman’s skeletons. 

He figured Medic would do the same, too. HIs brows furrowed as he remembered the older man had, and he took a longer swig.

“Sir, Ma’am, we have two special here tonight. The first’s a filet mignon with a garlic-blue cheese herb sauce, paired with our garden fresh medley, and the second is our currywurst…mit pommes?” The server tripped over the latter pronunciation, butchering it well. 

“Hey, what’s a currywurst?” The woman’s attempt to whisper was pitiful, leaving both Spy and the server staring at her. Spy felt lucky the restaurant wasn’t crowded tonight—he would’ve been embarrassed for her, yet he quickly remembered her self-declaration of being a “townie”, and that “her here hometown was all she ever needed, 'n all she's ever go.” 

Another sip was required.

The waiter cleared her throat, looking at Spy now with shifting eyes. Spy crooked his neck and glanced back, willing to accept that his date didn’t know the menu items, but not necessarily accepting of the employee’s ignorance. “...You are kidding me, right?”

The server was particularly young—no older than twenty, with remnants of puberty constellating his face in a grubby fashion. He cleared his throat again and looked down at Spy before coming closer to his ear. The notion set Spy on edge.

“I’m sorry sir, it’s a new menu item, and we have a new cook back there—things have been weird lately, and—”

Spy raised his palm to the boy and sighed. “Currywurst, if I remember correctly, are just pork and veal sausages. Zhe “pommes” are just what 'ou Americans call “French fries”, only zhey are thicker cut. Which raises zhe question as to what a place like zhis is doing selling simple sausages for zhe main course.”

“Oh wow,” Her excited squeal broke his rising anger, and he snorted, ordering two steaks in disgust. “I’m guessing you’ve had them before,” she cried.

“No,” he trailed off, gazing at the dwindling flames of the tapers before him. “I’ve never tried zhem.” He readjusted his tie. It seemed to be warming up.

“So how did you know then what that was?”

“It’s German. Traditional German “comfort” food, as you may call it.” He watched her visibly tense up, imagining what her brain must be envisioning. Nazis, and bomb shelters, Spy reckoned before inching his gloved hand against hers. It seemed to bring her back and calm her nerves.

“Relax, mon cher. I traveled zhere many times. I also have a good friend who is from a small city in Germany. It is a beautiful country, with beautiful people.”

“I…see.” She tried to feign a sense of comfortableness, but the idea only wrinkled her face and made her look more artificial than she already did. “Well, good thing you ordered us the steaks then!” Her bleeding giggle had roused the looks of the few other patrons dining in that establishment, and Spy had concluded that this woman was no longer interesting, but just an uncultured country girl from the middle of nowhere. Reducing her to someone he could just have sex with simmered in his mind, and a small snicker to himself escaped before he finished off his glass of wine. 

It didn’t take long before the youth came back with their meals. Spy ignored the prattling woman for the most part, and she didn’t seem to realize he wasn’t paying her any attention. _Americans_ , he thought, _inebriated, ignorant and uncouth_. He swore she only drank one glass, and here she was yapping and smacking the soft bits of meat and vegetables for Spy and the rest of the restaurant to see. _Yes, what a looker._

“…And so, I think that you should totally come back to my place after this, Mista’ ‘Man ‘o Mystery, eh?”

Spy tuned in and quirked an eyebrow. “Are you most certain? You’ve had a bit to drink, yes?”

“Oh please, this? This is nothing! Nothin’ at all,” she lied, stumbling over the next few words in an attempt to make herself seem suitable for the man before her. “You know, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.”

“Is zhat so.”

“Yeah,” she trailed, now playing with the few poached beans left on her plate. “Last guy I dated was some kinda gun-for-hire—oh, and always wearin’ blue as well. Somethin’ about his work.”

Spy perked up at this new knowledge, eyes slit in scrutiny. “Oh? What else about 'im?”

“He was young—‘bout my age, maybe a little younger, had a’ east-coast accent—something like New York or whatever. Nice legs for a guy, too.”

“ _Merde_.”

“Anyway,” she dragged on, finishing her glass of wine in an unsavory gulp, “we were getting ready to hit it off, and you know what he tells me? That he can’t, ‘cause he got fever for another girl. Can you even believe the nerve of him? That’s not how you treat a lady out here!”

Spy chuckled lightly under his breath as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “I can only imagine…zhe pain zhat must have left you with. You can do better, zhough.”

“You don’t gotta tell me. So what do ya say we get on out of here and I show you a good time?”

A half-hearted smile and three hundred-dollar bills strewn on the table was all that was left as they exited the eatery.

**

“So, where am I driving to?”

“Oh, just follow that lil’ ol’ road there, it’ll take you straight back to my place. Just make sure to turn on the first turn.” Spy’s companion sunk down in the plush seats of his convertible, needy of comfort. He kept his eyes on the now darkened road, but peeked over from time to time, making sure she wasn’t rummaging through his glove box or anything otherwise suspect.

Her sudden jump to turn on the radio make him blink in surprise. Some hybrid pop-western song was playing, and Spy thought his ears would bleed before he got her home.

“Ya know, if I knew any better, I’d say you weren’t even interested in me.”

“And what makes you say that, mon petit?”

“Any other guy would’ve taken me in the back of his car by now!” Her giggle was grating.

Spy cleared his throat and took a right turn. “My dear, I am not a heathen. And I would like to keep my car in a clean state.”

“I was kidding, what kinda woman you think I am?” she deflated, recrossing both her legs and arms. “But no, it is obvious. It’s almost like…like…like the same with that other guy I told you about earlier. Yeah, yeah, you know?”

“I don’t.” She flailed her arm wildly telling him to turn left, a last-minute call much to his dislike.

He pulled into a lengthened driveway, passing what seemed to be horses and cattle on opposite sides. “You own a farm?”

“Huh? Yeah, I raise them. They’re like my children, really, up until it’s slaughtering time.”

“Heartwarming.”

“They’re all I got.” Spy glanced away from the path to look at her before a humble house appeared up on a hill. A few lights were kept on, and Spy was quite grateful; had he not been such a sure driver, he would’ve most likely crashed into a cow by now.

He killed the ignition and let his hands rest on his thighs before reaching for a smoke. The lady watched him close until her eyes lit up at an offered cig. “Oh, why thank you!”

“Think nozhing of it.”

She took a long drag, running her hands through her curls before cocking her head with a smile. “So I reckon you ain’t coming in then?”

“You need to rest, you’ve had quite enough to drink.”

“Well, alright. You know where I live, the door’s always open, ya hear?”

“But of course.” 

“Just,” she started, “just, well. If you ring an’ I ain’t at the door to answer, just ask for Amber.”

“I zhought your name was Fern.” Spy’s interest was piqued once more, but she got out the car and shut the door with a forced smile. 

“I had a real good time, Mister—”

“Spy.”

A weak snort was all she could muster. “Heh, alright Mister Spy.” She waved, kicking off her heels and carrying them up the grassy hill towards her house. Spy watched her  
walk away, enjoying her cute figure saunter and trip upwards. He waited until she was completely in the house before turning the key and u-turning to head back to the base.

The radio had still been crooning, playing songs to make the assassin feel guilty for not taking her up on her offer. But the woman was right. Even after everything he prepared—between networking with imbeciles, and harassing his best friend, it was much too obvious that he couldn’t find anybody else as sexually attractive.

Spy clenched the wheel at the realization, and he turned off the radio.

He would have to go to the Medic first thing tomorrow and tell him that the shots were no longer working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your five-star restaurant sells sausages, you'll be damned if Spy doesn't let you know he's pissed at your menu
> 
> he came to enjoy dinner, not be reminded of phallic foodstuffs, hell
> 
> ~
> 
> Serious note, I'm not particularly familiar w/ German cuisine, so if it sounds weird or if I'm wrong, shoot a message so I can fix 'er up.


	8. Chapter 8

After dinner hours, the base would usually get quiet thanks to sated appetites and lethargic warriors. If anything, there would be the occasional shout from Soldier, or the bellowed tales of Nessie from Demo, and they’d be loud enough to hear all the way from the med-bay. Luckily, Medic’s office was one of the most soundproof spaces in the entire base, excluding the respawn room, and that allowed him to work, read, and do other things relatively in peace.

In the depths, Medic was gathering random items from his cabinets to take over to Sniper’s van in the coming hours. It was only 22:30, but the man couldn’t contain his enthusiasm. There was much to be done in the next 20 minutes before he locked up the med-bay. 

His first order of business included rounding up a couple old texts on psychotherapy. After quickly shoving into a doctor’s bag what looked to be some bottles of pills, he took to one of many bookcases in search of answers.

The Medic’s hand was perusing the shelves until it stopped at a particular book tucked between two battered volumes. Focused on a small yet thick leather-bound notebook, the doctor smiled as he rifled through what seemed to be old notes on herbalism and shamanistic remedies for various ailments. It was an old hobby of his even before he lost his medical license, even before he went to college. He frowned at the unfortunate case of his natural research being left to accrue dust in such a neglected fashion, and shoved it into his duffel as well.

A second glance at the clock had shown it to be 22:46. He needed to move.

With his bag zipped and left by the door, he scanned his bay and noted that new sheets needed to be dressed on the beds that both he and Sniper rested on. Moving to collect the bedding, Medic grazed his hand over where the Sniper had just been sleeping earlier. _He was so peaceful_ , he thought before removing the pillowcase. 

_I wonder…_

Medic looked behind him and checked for any fancy scents permeating through his office before turning back to the sheet in tow. Gently, he brought the fabric to his nose and took in a slight whiff, committing the scent to memory. That acidic tinge on the nose from sweat and musk, and hints of—

Medic lost all inhibition, and suffocated himself in the case once more, this time with an unsteady breath.

_\--Is that cloves? Eucalyptus oil, for sure. And juniper._

The German had placed the pillowcase back on the bed and tilted his head toward the ceiling with his eyes closed. 

“Ach,” he shook his head and continued stripping the bed, “Zhis is getting out of hand.”

As soon as the doctor tended to the beds, there was just one more matter he needed to address. Medic swallowed before walking towards the end of the hall at the door to the left. 

_There’s no way he could have been doing that earlier._

His hand flinched at the handle, unsure of what was left for him on the other side. 

_Sniper’s a decent man! He probably was feeling spontaneously ill, and that’s why he was so breathy earlier._

That, plus hundreds of other theories for Sniper’s odd behavior were fabricated in defense of the huntsman by the time Medic had mustered up the courage to crack open the door.

A quick shift of his eyes showed the space to be in pristine condition, apart from the faint lingering scent of the man.

Medic closed the door with a sigh of relief before adjusting his glasses. 

22:54. He was behind schedule. 

He removed his gloves and left them on his desk before cutting the lights and grabbing his bag. One last glance to check for any missing items, and he was out the door.

\--------------------------------------

It was always a challenge for Medic to escape the base without someone noticing, for he was a particularly important and personable man. If he could escape the sights of his good friend Heavy, or dodge Soldier altogether, there was normally a blessing in effect. Being this late on a work day meant most of the men had retired to their quarters, however there was always the chance someone would stop him and slow him down. 

He peered his head down the hallway, making sure the coast was clear. With a quick sprint to the exit—almost slamming himself into the door—he huffed and smiled, grateful that nobody was there to ask him questions or tell him stories—or witness him rub his head from the slight pain.

“You could have hurt yourself.”

The doctor’s eyes widened as he carefully reached in his bag for his bone saw.

“Relax, it iz only me.” The floating voice soon revealed its owner, and Medic’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Ah,” a nervous chuckle slipped, “I zhought you vere a spy bot. It vouldn’t have been zhe first time.”

“I assure you, I am no imposteur.” Medic’s smile faded away after watching the rogue fidget with his cigarette case. 

“Is everyzhing okay? You are back a lot earlier zhan I imagined. Ugh, vait, don’t tell me she vas a closet hooker. For someone who’s supposed to be good at securing intel, you keep finding zhese huren.”

Spy could only muster a blank stare at the German before cracking up into laughter. “Non, non, she was nozhing like zhat—quite zhe opposite, actually. But, eager.” He looked up to the night sky while fetching a cigarette from inside his toy.

“So somezhing more serious zhen.”

“Zhe shot failed today. In fact, it hasn’t been working zhe past two times you’ve administered it to me.”

“Vhy didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Spy exhaled a perfect ring of smoke into the air before shrugging. “You vere busy.” He scratched at the back of his balaclava before sucking his teeth in disgust. “I need to rest. I will talk to you in zhe morning, yes? After all, it seems you have a house call to tend to anyway.” 

He didn’t give the doctor any chance to reply, and instead recloaked, gusting past the man to get into the base. 

It was rare for Spy to be so distant towards his friend, and Medic’s entire walk to the huntsman’s van swirled around the Frenchman’s apparent dejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> medic's a closet alchemist   
> but he can't make anti-poisons, phoenix downs, or mana bottles. soz if that's a let down, hang in there  
> ~


	9. Chapter 9

Medic’s shuffling came to a halt when he saw the van parked not too far off. From what he could see, the lights were cut off in the camper. If the small fire pit next to his van wasn’t ablaze and roaring, the doctor would have thought the Aussie was actually knocked out for the night. 

His pace was much slower as he approached the vehicle, not particularly sure what to expect, or even sure if his assistance was even needed. 

He rested his hand on handle of the van’s cracked door to reveal what seemed to be a cleaner, more soothing environment. Everything couldn’t be seen through the sliver in the doorway, though.

“Sniper? Can I come in?”

Footsteps had shuffled about inside, but no reply. 

The doctor cleared his throat and held the door steady before knocking on it.

“That you doc?”

Sniper ran his hands through his hair—something Medic didn’t see often, as he thought his hat was attached to his head permanently—and nodded for him to come inside. 

 

Medic was most certainly right. The clothes had been cleaned up, magazines and books stashed in their rightful place, dishes cleaned and bed even made. But shadows danced against the walls of the van in every corner, and Medic eyes widened at every lit candle Sniper had throughout the van. He didn’t take Sniper for an overt romantic. 

He glanced at Sniper, who immediately started preparing tea for the doctor, and scanned again the van’s ambiance in question.

“Vhat’s with all zhe candles?” There had to be about twenty of them perched throughout in various places, columns of wax melting into small pools on tea saucers all over. They were unscented, sadly, the Medic thought, however the pulsing flames relaxed his nerves immensely. 

Sniper cut his eyes at the doctor before looking back at the kettle. “M’electric generator’s actin’ wonky.”

“Oh, do you zhink Engineer can fix it for you?”

“Possibly, but I wouldn’t bother ‘im for that kind of thing. He got enough on his plate as it is.”

Sniper set a cup and saucer in front of the Medic before plopping down on the other side of the table to his own drink. 

“Vell, it certainly is a nice touch, even if it’s temporary and inconvenient.”

“S’ppose so.” He looked away, scrunching up his face after sipping his tea. Under his stove was a small cabinet that he rummaged in before pulling out a half-empty bottle of liquor and a pack of smokes.

He slumped back into his seat and poured a small bit into his cup of tea before trying it again. Second time around, the drink was well received, and he reached for the lighter on the table before stopping to look up at the man opposite him.

“Y’mind if I smoke?”

“I’d razher you not smoke _or_ drink, but I suppose zhe latter cannot be helped now. Let’s just hope zhe medicine vill work as it’s supposed to.” 

“Sorry,” was half-heartedly mumbled before he finished off the cup. 

Medic fumbled with his bag, rummaging his hands inside to grab two bottles of medicine. He placed them both in front of Sniper and looked across at him. “You have two options.”

“Oh yeah?” He lifted the left-hand container, shaking it to only hear a few pills inside. The label was scratched at in a rather vicious manner, and defaced with what seemed to be the Medic’s notes on the side. “Wot’s this one do?”

“Zhat one will knock you out instantly, but it won’t last throughout the night. It’s a concoction zhat’s strong enough to kill you if you take too much, so it can only be taken in small doses.” 

Sniper put the bottle back on the table and rested his cheek in his hand. “Lovely. An’ wot about this one ‘ere?”

“Zhat one will take time, but vill consistently work all night. Zhe dreams aren’t guaranteed to stop, however. These work best vhen you’re most exhausted—like after a run or somezhing like that.”

“You give those ta Scout?”

“I can’t tell you zhat, you know very vell—”

Sniper reached for the set of pills to the right and popped the cap open. He shook out two and looked to the doctor for assurance. “How many ta take?”

“Two’s fine. But I insist you drink zhem with water.” 

“Well wot’s wrong with—” Medic glared at Sniper with a squinted look of disapproval before he surrendered. “Alright, alright. Always somethin’.”

While the Sniper got up to get himself some water from the sink, Medic stood up and peered at the various books the Aussie kept in his van. Most of them were gun manuals—specifically tattered versions of Mann Co. Sniper Rifle manuals—and the rest were a mixture of cookbooks, survival guides and oddly enough, sheet music. 

“I didn’t know you played an instrument.” From the corner of Medic’s eye, a head jerked violently up and down again before the sounds of a harsh gulp and satisfied grunt were heard.

“Yeah.”

“Vhat do you play?” He took it upon himself to view the sheets, humming the tunes lightly.

“Saxophone. The tenor. Been a while though, not even sure I can still play.”

“When did you start learning?”

“When I was real young, I s’ppose. I got at least two decades of it under m’belt. Horn’s with me here too, in the van…I just normally don’t have the time or energy to play nowadays.” He sat back down and started at his lukewarm tea again, but Medic was far too enamored with this exciting new revelation to see Sniper’s face twisted in disgust.

“Mein gott, Sniper, you should play vhen you are having a hard time sleeping, or even before zhen. It can help you relax—”

“Nah.” Sniper closed his eyes and finished what was in his mug before looking over towards Medic. “I stopped playing for a reason. I ain’t picking that thing back up no time soon.”

“Hmm, very vell…” Medic placed the sheets back on the shelf and sat back down at the table. 

 

“Say, nurse—” A loud yawn was stretched out of Sniper unexpected.

“Zhat’s working quicker zhan I expected.”

“What were you doin’ outside that night? D’ya follow me from the start to talk to me?” 

Medic’s brow furrowed and his lips pursed. “I vas making rounds, and saw you. I needed to talk to you anyway, so I followed.”

“Makin’ rounds, ‘eh? That’s the first toime I ever heard or seen ya do that.” 

The German sighed, reaching for the whiskey bottle still on the table. Much to Sniper’s surprise, Medic took four hard swallows straight before setting it back down and sighing. “Forgive me, Sniper, but I have been under a great deal of stress lately. I shouldn’t be drinking vhile I’m treating a patient.” He looked at Sniper without remorse before taking to the bottle again for two more swigs. “I’ll replace whatever zhis is next time we go into town.”

“Relax, doc. Just, here though.” Sniper moved his empty tea mug to Medic, and watched as the doctor filled the cup up halfway. 

“Zhank you.”

“No problem mate.” 

Medic continued to drink, making tense faces of anguish after every gulp, and Sniper found each to be amusing. He wanted to ask what’s wrong, even wanted to see if he could help, but he didn’t want to pry, or seem nosy. Though Medic wouldn’t just carry on to start wasting himself in front of anybody, Sniper deduced, so didn’t that mean the Medic was genuinely comfortable with the man before him? The thought was enough to send a chill tingling down the assassin's neck. 

Sniper’s eyes veered away from the doctor to the small window of his van, a clear view of the moon and night sky. 

“I’m quite vorried about Spy,” he whispered, hands slowly combing through his hair. It seemed to Sniper that the man before him was unraveling, and he still wasn’t sure if it was liquor intolerance or actual trust fueling Medic’s openness.

He couldn’t imagine the doctor trusting anyone with anything more than a battle strategy. Weariness was creeping up on Sniper with every passing moment, but cutting off this opportunity to get to know the man haunting his dreams better was something Sniper wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Spy, eh? That bloke can handle himself just foine.”

“Up to a certain point, hah,” Medic knocked back another swig, ignoring the now empty cup. His cheeks were full of blood, and his eyes glazed. “Zhat man is nozhing more zhan a child. Alvays complaining, making jokes, being pretentious, _ugh,_ zhe man can go to hell!” The bottle slammed back on the table startled the Australian, yet before he knew it, it seemed that tears were starting to roll down his teammate’s cheeks.

_A sad drunk? Jesus, I don’t think I can take much more of this. Like lookin’ in a mirror._

“C’mon doc, don’t cry mate.”

“You don’t know zhat man like I do. So much pain, so much suffering. And zhat’s not to say zhe next man hasn’t suffered like him, it’s just he’s so stubborn! I try to talk sense into him, and he does zhe opposite of vhat I suggest every single time! At zhis rate, he’s going to do somezhing he’ll regret!

“Do you—do you know on zhe vay here, he told me zhe shots vere ineffective? Who know how long he’s been lying to me, just so I ‘vouldn’t vorry’. Vhat a load of shit! He knew zhey veren’t vorking zhe entire time, yet he alvays came back to vaste my time, _beg_ me to give him some attention—more attention zhan I gave anyvone else on zhe team!”

Medic voice was growing hoarse and he was aware of it as he clutched his throat. His hands fished through his hair one more before he sighed heavily. 

“Give me one of zhose.” Medic reached over and cloyed at Sniper gently until he stole what was nestled behind his team mate’s ear. He plopped back down on his side of the booth and lit the cigarette with the candle’s flame before him.

“I didn’t know you smoked. Thought you’d be, you know, being a doctor and all—”

“Oh please, I quit years ago, but back in med school, I smoked more zhan vhat Spy does now. And, hell if zhis isn’t vhat I needed just now. All zhat’s missing is a good lay to get my mind off zhis gott verdammnt…situation.” 

Sniper tried to ignore his last comment completely, shifting in his seat and looking around his room—anything to keep his mind from questioning and repeating what was just uttered. “Doc, c’mere, gimme that bottle. You don’t need any more o’ that, yeah?” 

Medic didn’t fight, didn’t really move when the whiskey disappeared from the table. He shifted his arms and sunk his hand into his palm entirely, only pulling up to take a drag or stare at Sniper momentarily.

His eyes squinted at the Australian, and it was enough of a stare to get the Aussie to move from sitting across him. 

“I know vhat you’re zhinking. I know, I need to go, I’ve made a complete fool of myself.” Medic’s forehead slammed into the table, causing Sniper to jump back in shock. 

“Bloody...Doc, you alright?”

A low grunt assured the doctor was okay, but his head was a brick that refused to budge. 

“ I shouldn’t have…so schtupid of me…” With the doctor’s lips pressed into the table, Sniper struggled to make sense of the new drunk.

“One more time, so I can hear ya.” Sniper hesitated before resting his hand on top of the doctor’s head. Slowly, they rose before the German’s sluggish eyelids batted at his host. 

“I shouldn’t have skipped dinner, I vould be handling der alkohol much better if I did, ugh.” Medic dropped his head back to the table, humming the same song he sung earlier in the showers.

Sniper knew his hand placed on Medic’s head should’ve long been removed, but he felt compelled to sift his fingers carefully in the German’s hair, stopping and going ever so slowly to avoid arousing suspicion. Instead of negativity though, Medic nuzzled into the huntsman’s touch, savoring the feeling of a good head rub.

“Mm, right zhere, scratch zhere.”

Sniper own movements were slowing down, and after making Medic grunt with drunken glee, he realized he himself was soon going to be down for the count. “Hey, doc, go sleep up in m’ bed, alright?”

Medic’s head sprung up from the table, and a rosy flush was decorating his cheeks and nose. Sniper wanted nothing more than to clutch his cheeks and bring him close, but he refrained and cleared his throat. “C’mon. ‘Cause you’ll trip and fall if ya try to get back to the base tonight.” 

As he dragged himself from the booth, Sniper took the opportunity to start extinguishing all the flames in his home. 

“But, vhere vill you sleep?”

“Right on th’ floor, don’t you worry about me. Just get some rest.”

Medic flashed a sheepish grin to the Australian before he eased out of the booth completely. So easy, Sniper made standing up look. Two missteps and Medic had pushed, and tumbled down to the floor, dragging Sniper with him. 

“Ooh, sorry,” he giggled before busting out into complete laughter. Sniper could only smile weakly—his drug induced exhaustion left little room for silliness. The doctor had sprawled himself out over top Sniper, hands bracing his torso to keep his head upright and focused. If Sniper wasn’t so bloody tired, physical excitement would’ve been more than obvious. He silently thanked modern medicine for curbing his enthusiasm before trying to remove the doctor. 

“It’s foine, c’mon, get up off me so oi can get you up there.”

“Alvight, alvight, here I gooo,” he sang as he pushed up off the man. His first attempt failed miserably, and when he fell back down his head collided into Sniper’s own. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Medic rubbed Sniper’s forehead lightly to ease the pain before finally crawling up to stand again. Sniper momentarily had to focus on the floor, away from the doctor to recompose himself.

“Hm, give me somezhing to vear, Sniper.”

“Wot?” 

“Vell, I’m not sleeping in zhis,” he motioned at his shirt and slacks. Fussing with his tie was easy enough, but the buttons seemed to be troubling the man the most. Sniper swallowed so hard, his throat hurt afterward.

“Doc, can’t you just sleep in that? Those your casual clothes anyway, roight?”

“No! C’mon, give me a shirt und pants or somezhing.” The tie was tossed aside on Sniper’s table and the first button unfastened. “You’re about my size, you should have  
somezhing. Und can you help me wizh these damn buttons, ugh I hate zhese little zhings…”

Medic’s legs wobbled slightly and Sniper could only stare. With every button unfastened, the huntsman’s drowned himself in the sight of the man before him, each breath hitching louder in his ears. He blinked a few times before Medic had fully removed his shirt, and his eyes did nothing more than lap up the sight. 

Sure, there were a few scars here and there that decorated the doctor’s skin in an odd and questionable manner, but they were all overshadowed by the man’s stately physique. It made no sense to the Australian how someone who never actively buffed up could be so toned. 

“L-look, just go in the drawer and foind something. I can barely keep my eyes open.” Sniper finally lifted himself up and excused himself from the van to put out the campfire outside. 

 

By the time he returned back to his van, he found the Medic passed out right in the spot he was going to rest for the night.

“Doc, _why?_ ” Sniper whispered before gathering pillows and a blanket off his bed. 

He struggled for four minutes to get his guest situated. If the pills weren’t on the verge of sending him adrift, lugging the Medic’s dead weight around certainly drained him enough to want to pass out right next to him. 

Mild grunts came from the slumbering man, and for a brief moment Sniper felt that perhaps his nightmares were just some kind of diversion for what nature had aligned. Too exhausted to climb the bunk, Sniper stripped down to his boxers and sat across from the doctor, watching, etching the older man into his memory.

Someone so inimical on the field, reduced to this soft, slumbering, docile man.

It genuinely astounded Sniper.

Certainly the dreams were confusing and aggravating as hell. They threatened his job, threatened his life, and his mental stability each night sleep was stolen from him.  
But if the reward was this man being remotely this close to him even once in a blue moon, well. Sniper couldn’t complain about the lecherous heaps of metal even if he wanted to. 

“Liam…zhank you…”

Sniper’s eyes were finally shut, and he felt his body’s weight sink downward as he fell into sleep.

_Must be dreamin’ already,_ he thought, _the doc wouldn’t call me by m’ first name, that’s f’sure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn't really think Medic was gonna _climb_ up to Snipe's' bed, did'ya?  
>  maaan, he'd fall flat on his face, and nosebleeds would ensue


	10. Chapter 10

_Steady, steady now._

  


_That’s it, you lil’ anklebiter, run roight in’ta the dot—_

  


A quick crack into the night decimated the remaining bomb-carrying lemming of the wave. Sniper pulled his rifle from out his nest’s window and stood content. Certainly the fanfare would begin soon, it was ritual. Sniper banked on Demo and Pyro’s celebratory singing and dancing to emphasize their wins, but…no shouting or wooing could be heard from below. 

Sniper peered his head out his lookout to see why there was a lack of commotion.

No Demo, no Pyro, Soldier? Where the hell was everybody? He didn’t care for his team’s absence.

He swapped out his rifle for his shiv before reaching for the floorboard, but there was an unexpected set of knocks on the door that made the man jump back. 

No one spoke. Sniper wanted to ask who, and where—why, too—but not a peep came from him as he readied his knife. 

When the door eased its way open, Sniper squinted at the gloved hand that peeked through the entryway. He sighed and lowered his weapon when the interloper finally made his way entirely inside, reclosing the hatch behind him.

“I didn’t call for you,” he said, though it was quiet enough to be ignored.

“I vas in zhe area.” A smile was plastered on Medic’s face, but it was not returned by Sniper. 

“Wot you doin’ up here.”

“Zhe vorkin day’s done—”

“Yeah, but ain’t there other men that need your medical attention?” 

Medic’s eyes narrowed at the mouth that spewed question after question before closing in on its owner. 

With the nest being nothing more than a glorified crate on stilts, Sniper felt particularly trapped when Medic started moving in. Three steps was all it took for his back to press flush against the wall, and the doctor made sure to move in extra close to set his nerves further on edge.

“You vant me to go, zhen?” 

“Doc, what are ya doin’—”

“ _Celebrating_ , isn’t it obvious?” Gloved hands began their voracious exploration up and down Sniper’s body. The heavy-lidded look of unabated desire on the doctor’s face had Sniper hardening with every second passed. 

“W-wait—” So plush were Medic’s lips as they pressed at Sniper’s to keep him quiet during his domination. 

The man wanted it, he really did, and there would have been nothing more satisfying than stripping down and entangling himself with the German then and there. But something, _something_ was entirely off.

“W-w-ya bloody piker, just wait a moment!” He shoved Medic back, and the doctor’s feet stuttered to regain balance. 

Regrets soon loomed over him. The doctor stood mouth agape, eyes glistening with emotion soon to be pouring from them. 

“Hold on now, don’t—don’t cry—” _When the hell did Medic ever cry?_

“You don’t vant me?” The tears were already streaming. 

“No, no, it’s not like that—”

“You don’t _vant_ me?” Something clicked, and the softened nature was quickly replaced with rage.

“Doc, I do, just wait—”

“ _Liar!_ ” Sniper shook in fear when the tears Medic shed dripped clear, pink, crimson. The doctor’s eyes sealed tight, and blood ran down his cheeks. 

“Medic, you’re bleeding,” he trailed off in disbelief. Sniper shoved his head out the nest’s window scanning rapidly below. “Somebody, help! HELP!” 

“You don’t vant me, you don’t vant me,” he whispered, deathly low. 

He returned his head inside only to be met with the man chanting over and over again. Sniper ran over and grabbed Medic by the shoulders, trying to wipe away his bloody tears.

“Mate, I do, just not with you like this. Please stop crying, we gotta get you help.”

“You don’t vant—” The Medic ceased his mantra before looking up into Sniper’s eyes. “Vould you rather I vas someone— _somezhing_ else?”

“W-wot are you talkin’ about?” Sniper took a few paces back as the bleeding picked up again. No longer just from his eye ducts, red has poured from his ears, his nose, his fingernails, and his skin had started to swell.

“My god, someone get up here and help—”

“Zhey’re not here. Zhere’s just you—”

“Nurse—” 

The sanguine sight left Sniper petrified. He dropped down into a corner as he witnessed blood seep through every orifice on the other man’s body. The pores on his arms had reddened and blackened his lab coat and slacks, and his cheeks oozed red. It wasn’t long before his skin started to give out, boil-like pockets of blood exploding everywhere, splattering all about Sniper’s nest and decorating his face. 

“N-no,” Sniper curled up and tucked his head into his legs to shield his eyes from the sight of flesh and gibs blasting about. 

The misty red rain eventually simmered down, and all that was alive was a low whirring audible in the background. 

It took a moment before Sniper registered the sound, and it was only then he held his breath and crouched tighter into his ball.

“ _Herr Sniper, iz zhis better?_ ”

“No, no, _no_.”

“No? Vell, I vent zhrough all zhat trouble,” the mechanical voice crooned, moving in and grabbing Sniper’s blade. “I guess I’ll have to make you appreciate me zhen, mm?”

“God, please—”

“Zhere, zhere Sniper. Are you ready for round two?”

\----------------------------------------------------------

  


“Fuck, NO!” Sniper palmed at his surroundings and flailed a bit before springing up from the floor.

He lapped up air and allowed his eyes to dart around before falling back down. Another dream.

He took his sleeve to his forehead to wipe the cold sweat away. What was the purpose of sleep when he woke exhausted? He could only stare at the ceiling, and attempt to envision anything but what he just experienced. 

With a sigh, Sniper contemplated on what time it was, whether or not he could get another nap in before having to go to work, and whether or not these visions would stick with him all day like the others did. 

  


Stupid questions, the lot of them, because he already knew the answers to two. 

  


The assassin shifted his weight in preparation to get up, but something was pinning his legs down. Pulling himself up once more, a look at what had his legs trapped reminded him that he was not alone. 

“Hell,” Sniper whispered to himself. 

If he could just remove the Medic’s legs from resting on his own, he could avoid waking him and get some much needed air, and maybe take a leak. 

Sniper started very slow, warily trying to pick up and move Medic’s blanketed legs from his own. 

The first one was no sweat, and Medic hadn’t even moved a muscle. The other leg however, was oddly heavier when Sniper tried to displace it. He removed his hands and stared at the doctor's leg, then back at his face before trying once more. It was almost like his leg was resisting. 

“Mm, Sniper, just…” The huntsman’s eyes grew wide at the airy voice.

“Shit, doc, I’m sorry—” 

Medic wiggled his other leg off of Sniper before sitting up to rub his eyes. “Ssh, ssh,” he hissed as he held his head. “You voke me up when you voke up. Come, come here.” The doctor’s eyes were still closed, but he beckoned him over anyway.

After Medic had completely moved his leg , Sniper crawled over to sit next to the half-asleep man.

“Alvight,” he started, barely audible. It was clear he was suffering from an intense hangover, and Sniper could only feel bad for waking him up. Still, Medic reached about the best he could for his glasses.

“Ugh, vhere are zhey…”

“They’re—here, doc.” Sniper handed them over and Medic exhaled before putting them on to glance at Sniper. 

“Danke. So, anozher bad dream. Zhat shouldn’t have haa—” The German broke out into an awfully loud yawn before dropping his head back to the pillow. “I’m sorry Sniper—”

“Liam.”

“Vhat?”

“S’wot you called me yesterday, before you went t’sleep.”

Medic sat back up, glasses easing off his face. It added to the disheveled and flustered appeal that the Australian then found irresistible.

“Really?” was all the German could muster before looking away entirely.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind it.”

“Zhat vas unprofessional of me. I’m supposed to call you ‘Sniper’, so—”

“Doc.” Sniper took Medic’s shoulder in hand and smiled, “It’s alright, really. Y’can call me whatever you like, except for a wanka’. I’ll skin ya for that.”

Medic returned the smile before looking down at his twiddling fingers. “Sven,” he ghosted, eyes locked on an imaginary target.

“Wot? That yer name, yeah?”

“It is, but don’t call me zhat in front of _anybody, never, ever_ —”

“You have m' word.” 

The two grinned at one another until it became a sad contest of who could smile the creepiest. Sniper removed his hand from Medic’s arm with ample apologies, while Medic went on like a broken record stating it was fine. 

Eventually that too ended, and they were staring at one another once again. 

“Vell,” Medic started, falsely clearing his throat, “do you vant to talk about it?”

“About—no, no I don’t even wanna—”

“Ssh, ssh, not so loud. And it’s okay, ve can talk about it anozher time. Just, try and get some rest, it feels entirely too early in zhe morning. Vhat is it, 3?”

Sniper pulled himself up from the floor to check the time. 3:07.

“Y’got a good sense of time.”

“A natural gift, I suppose,” he quipped, followed by another lengthy yawn.

“Yeah, I bet. I’ll be back, gonna try t’ take a piss.”

“Ja, okay zhen.” After Medic rubbed his eyes lazily, he waited before Sniper closed the van door to look underneath his blanket.

“Zhis is troubling…” He clutched tighter to the comforter which had engulfed his body entirely. Trying to think back, he didn’t remember when he removed his clothes, or how he found his way into one of Sniper’s long sleeve uniform shirts. All he knew now were three things: he liked the way Sniper’s clothes fit on him, he needed to keep his excitement to himself, and he needed to conceal the erection that decided to wake up with him.

The thought of rubbing one out in secrecy crossed his mind—twice. Sniper’s scent was on the pillow he rested his head, the duvet that encased him, the air of the entire van, and the more the German thought about it, the closer he felt his self-control dwindle. 

A barge through the door had cleared his mind, and Medic just watched as Sniper moved to wash his hands at the sink.

“Y’lookin’ at me again, doc?” He cut the faucet and splashed some water on Medic’s face from his fingertips before bellowing out a laugh.

“You laugh too loud!”

“Heh, sorry, sorry.” Sniper settled back down on the floor, drying his hands on his guest's blanket.

"Do you not like it vhen people look at you, Sn--Liam?" 

"Oi don't care for it much. Got gawked at a lot for being so tall--still do, from time to time."

"Oh..." The German grinned again while cuddling up in his blanket. "Not here zhough, right? 

"When we go into town sometimes, yeah. The sheilas, they tend to look a little too hard." 

Medic let out a faint chortle, waving at Sniper in an attempt to fan his ignorance away. "Oh, Liam, do you ever zhink for a moment zhey might not be staring at you because you're tall, but because you're actually an attractive man?" 

Sniper heard nothing else. Medic carried on laughing, saying a few things in between his giggles, but all Sniper replayed was the doc saying he was a looker. His heart was weakened, _he_ was weakened, with ease, just by words.

"Oh, Sniper, are you embarrassed?"

"Wh--embarrassed? Nah." 

"Your face says ozherwise."

Sniper grunted into the hand that covered his face in reflex. "Oh, relax, I'm only teasing you. Zhough, you are handsome, and you should not be embarrassed about zhat at all."

His fingers parted so he could peek through the crevasse. "Oi could do without all the flattery, thanks. Now if y'don't mind, oi'm goin' back ta sleep." 

"Of course, of course. Good night zhen."

  


Owls hooting and coyotes howling did little to distract them from the silence. They rested on their respective sides, attempting to let sleep capture them again by staring at whatever was before them. Sniper shifted about and sighed before finally sitting back up. 

"Hey, Doc?" 

"Yes, Liam, vhat is it?" 

"Can oi ask y'somethin' personal?" 

Medic hesitated with a light huff. "Go ahead." 

"Can you...can you cry?" 

" _Vhat_ , vhat kind of question is zha--" 

"Just hear me out, will ya? 

"Oi've seen you giddy, and oi've seen you piss angry with our spook, and once on the 'field with Heavy, but in my how many years workin' here, oi ain't never heard about you shedding no tears. Hell, we all know about y'ex-wife, and some of our mates said they tried t'talk you outta that whole... _incident_ after that. They said they ain't hear a single thing either through what you did, and I know you loved that woman--" 

"Zhat's enough."

Medic's happy-go-lucky mood was retracted in an instant.

_Shit, maybe I pushed 'em too hard._

Sniper waited for Medic to say something else, a desperate state where the need for answers was obvious on a distressed face. But Medic avoided all contact with the man, rose up with his blanket and crawled his way to Sniper's bunk.

"Doc, I didn't mean to offend. Hell, I won't ask nothin' like that ever again, okay mate?"

Sniper stretched out on the camper van's floor in silence. It took some time, but he eventually moved where the Medic had slept earlier, nestling in as if the hard surface would protect him from the man's seething. 

"Zhat voman," Medic hissed, "Zhat voman vas a parasite. You know nozhing about zhat wretched lady, and neizher did most of zhe team.

"Heh, vhat a simple question to ask me. Spy asked me zhe same zhing too, you know. I vill tell you zhe same zhing I told him."

Sniper strained to hear Medic's whispers that were further muffled by bedding and his positioning on the bed. Still, he closed his eyes, and focused on the pained words of the man above him.

"Even zhough ve are technically immortal here...und elsevhere, if I can perfect zhis Medigun formula once and for all...ve are still human. _I_ am still human. Sometimes, ve kill each ozher so much, ve forget vhat ve are, and vhat zhat entails.

"Ve have all made sacrifices and decisions, both fruitful and fallow. Sure, most of us don't dwell on zhem, but zhey have molded us into who ve are. Our work leaves little room for public displays of emotion excluding zhose of anger and rage, and it is best zhat vay.

"But do not zhink for a moment zhat I am incapable of reflecting such an emotion. No matter vhat happens, or vhat I become, I vill always feel, even vhen I don't want to."

"Yeah, but doc," Sniper started, trying to fix the mood in desperation, "you're practically invincible, yeah? Y'don' faced people and things, elements normal folks can't handle. Hell, mate, you handle things the rest of _us_ can't even handle. Y'like an australium wall or something."

"Invincible?" Medic finally turned outward so Sniper could hear his murmurs crystal clear. "Sniper, I am no such zhing. Even if I vas, I still vouldn't be. If even zhe gods cry, vhat makes you zhink I am immune to expressing any form of sorrow?

"Vhat a _stupid_ question," Medic mumbled as he turned toward the wall again. "Guten Nacht, Sniper." 

It wasn't enough that Sniper felt terrible for asking such an asinine question.

No, his punishment for the remainder of the night was to listen in as faint sniffles from above kept him awake, rattling at his core until a few streams of salt fell and dried upon his own forlorn face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liam and Sven, sitting in a tree, a-r-g-u-i-n-g
> 
>  
> 
> \----
> 
> 3/4 wisdom teeth have plotted against me recently. If they hadn't assaulted me in such a brutal fashion, this would've been proofed and uploaded sooner.
> 
> Instead, it was just uploaded w/ minimum proofing. I 'pologize, next chapter'll be more concise, cleaner, when I'm feelin' a bit better. Thanks for understanding.


	11. Chapter 11

Crackling, popping, grating in his ear. The sound of cinders.

Was he burning? His van had to be on fire. He had to move, had to _get the hell out_ , yet he was stuck between consciousness and insentience, the feeling of being pinned, danger staring directly at his face. He had grown to know this sensation during his ventures in the outback, and the feeling hadn't subsided one bit since signing up with Mann Co. 

Sniper wrestled with dead weight and sealed eyes that refused to release him from the natural spell that was sleep. 

 

“Sniper.”

A voice? Maybe he wouldn’t die. But the smoke smelled so good, Sniper thought. He came to terms with actually enjoying the scent of his impending death.

 

“Sniper, come on.”

 

A new feeling tingled his limbs. He was being touched, and it had worked to ease the darkness and fear. 

 

The sizzling no longer sounded like a fate sealed, but rather…like breakfast.

 

A few more nudges paired with whiffs of seared proteins had roused Sniper from his sickened slumber. He pinched at his eye ducts, evicting the sleep still nestled in them from the night prior.

A quick but hazed glance up had Sniper doing a double take at the sight. He swallowed hard before further propping himself up from the floor.

“Mornin’, Doc—”

Medic turned his attention away from the stove slightly, just enough to cut his eyes at Sniper before returning to his task.

“Look nurse, I’m real sorry ‘bout last night, oi didn’t mean t’offend ya or anything.” He tried his hardest to sound sincere, but his mind was in his groin as he looked upon the man clad in his own uniform shirt. Sniper’s eyes traced his stately posture and admired his calf muscles all the way up to the nape of the doctor’s neck. 

He knew his timing couldn’t have been worse, but he really wanted to find a way to just touch him in this picturesque state. Someway, somehow, before they both had to get dressed to head back to the base, the Aussie wanted to embrace and feel him in his arms.

 

A pair of links, poached eggs and baked beans was plated and placed in front of him in a delicate manner. The aroma had peeled the Australian from salacious thought, and he looked up at the other man. Medic grabbed his cup of coffee and sat opposite Sniper on the van’s floor.

“Well, where’s yours?”

“Not very hungry. I’ll just have zhis.”

“So, y’just decided t’make me…this?” Sniper stared at the man then back at his food. “You that angry with me mate?”

“Vhat are you talking about?”

“Wot’d you put in’ere, mate?” Sniper poked at the beans before Medic sighed and got up. A moment later, a fork was launched at the assassin’s head. 

“If I vanted to kill you, you’d been dead last night,” Medic hummed before settling down again. “Just eat.”

Sniper picked up the utensil and raised his eyebrow before taking to the food.

To no surprise, everything was delicious. Medic, if anything, was the closet gourmand of the mercs, yet his workload kept the man furthest away from kitchen duties most of the time. Very few times have his teammates sampled Medic’s cooking and known about it, simply because the doctor never owned up to his service. When asked who cooked, he just directed people to Heavy, the Russian would take credit, and that was that. But Sniper was an astute man, and it didn't take him long before he caught Medic one evening working over the stove before scurrying back to his office. The assassin thought it all to be very clever, though unnecessary, yet he found himself respecting the doctor more for it.

 

“Thanks mate.” 

Medic looked away into his coffee cup.

“Why’d you cook anyway? And where’d you get beans from?”

“I vas stressed. So I made some food,” was all the huntsman could get out of the German before he took Sniper’s plate to the sink to clean it.

“Hey, don’t worry ‘bout the dishes, oi’ll handle ‘em, yeah?”

“I’m cleaning zhe mess I made,” he snapped back. 

“Oh, c’mon mate, y’really gonna hold a grudge?” Sniper rose from the floor and moved beside Medic. The dishes were clean, yet he kept scrubbing anyway.

“Doc. Doc!” He extended his hand to whip the doctor around by the shoulders to face him. 

“ _Vhat?_ ”, The plate almost shattered in the sink when he slammed it down and glared at the Aussie.

Sniper licked his lips and rubbed his arm soft-like to quell his nerves. This man had no right looking so good when angry. 

“I—shit. Look—”

“Vhatever apology you’re about to say, I don’t vant to hear it—” 

“It’s not—look, I’m not gonna apologize, I just wanna talk to ya—” Sniper’s hands eased along the sides of the other subconsciously.

“Zhere’s nozhing to talk about.” Medic clutched the sides of the counter before eyeing the nearest towel. 

“Damn nurse,” Sniper mumbled, grabbing Medic by the jaw and facing him towards him once more. “There’s always something to talk about.” This time around, the German stood stock still. Sniper couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or rage that had begun to flush the doctor’s cheeks, but the swift punch to Sniper’s jaw made Medic’s immediate feelings apparent.

 

“ _Don’t_ ,” he flared, watching Sniper rub his face in pain, “don’t touch me.”

Sniper looked up at Medic, crushed by what he thought was an over-reaction. He moved backwards and away, climbing into his bunk and nestling in the sheets. After throwing the comforter over his head, things quieted down, and clinking of pots and plates continued again.

“Oi shouldn’t’ve grabbed you like that. I’m sorry mate,” he murmured, muffled by bedding.

The water had been cut off, and silverware jingled about louder than normal in angry response.

“Y’know what. Just don’t even worry ‘bout those dishes anymore. If you’re uncomfortable, then just leave. Oi ain’t keepin’ y’round if you don’t wanna be here—”

Making a few utensils sound like a battered wind chime was no easy feat, yet Medic managed to do so to shut Sniper up. The older man huffed before climbing the ladder up to Sniper’s bed.

“If I didn’t vant to be here, do you zhink I vould have stayed after I voke? Do you zhink I’d tend to you like a child in need? You must zhink I do zhis for everyone, zhat nothing I’ve done zhis entire time is out of zhe ordinary.”

Sniper removed the blanket from his head to look at Medic’s wrinkled brow and wicked scowl. He was right there, hanging on the edge of his bed, just waiting to be pulled in. But he couldn’t touch him, and so he too, frowned. 

“So why are ya here? Wot, you find me ‘n my condition t’be amusing? Nothing more than something to observe and scribble about, yeah?”

Medic hadn’t replied.

“Well,” Sniper grunted, closing his eyes and turning his back on the man, “take our y’pen and pad and do your damn research. Just leave me be.”

_Oi don’t need your fake concern, it’s only making this worse,_ Sniper added mentally.

The doctor didn’t speak, but Sniper felt the man’s eyes on his back. He was split about how much he loved the attention, and how much he hated _this_ …whatever it was. 

“If you don’t vant zhis arrangement,” Medic moused, careful as he chose words, “If you vould razher me tend to your ailment by zhe Mann Co. standard, I can arrange zhat, entirely.” 

Sniper turned back to address what he thought was an attempt at a threat, only to find the German gnawing on his lip and staring at the blanket before him. 

“Ve can set up days vhere you come in, if you don’t vant to come daily. Just tell me beforehand before you come to zhe infirmary so I have time to prepare—”

“Medic.”

“—zhe area for your examinations. I vill continue to keep your condition under zhe radar of Helen and zhe rest of zhe team—”

“Doc,” Sniper whispered. Medic pulled his eyes away from the patterns and looked up, eyes glossy and gaze weak.

“Yes?”

“I’ll just come during normal hours, yeah?”

A burning pang of loss was searing Sniper's innards.

“Very vell then. Let me get my zhings, and I’ll be on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet money the floor of sniper's van's more comfy than that damn bed
> 
> _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
> 
> If this chap' ends weird for you, it's cause I split the chapter. Hang in there, I'm writing as fast as my wee digits can type.


	12. Chapter 12

Medic said nothing as he climbed down from Sniper’s loft to grab his stuff. He moved throughout the van, picking up his pants, his dress shirt and other belongings. After a few moments, he paced about like a lost puppy before looking back up to the bunk where Sniper was.

Sudden steps and a shift in the bed had Sniper flailing and scrambling to the corner of his loft.

“This bed ain’t made for two,” he said in an artificially annoyed tone. 

Medic glanced at Sniper before carrying on. Pillows were offloaded to the floor of the van, and a shoved blanket left the Australian with chilled legs and a heated chest.

“I’m looking for my socks.”

“Your wha...no, get out m'bed.”

Medic fished one from the corner of the bed and held it up to his onlooker. “Check underneath your pillow—”

“Well why would your sock be on this end o’ the bed then?”

“Are you going to look or do I have to come over zhere?”

“It _ain’t over here._ ”

“Did you check?” was uttered back, emphasis dropped on every word.

Medic’s eyes narrowed, a lidded look of disapproval that Sniper took a whole different way. 

“Move.”

Sniper clenched all his muscles as Medic carried on with his task. He crawled closer and closer towards him, oblivious of the huntsman’s gaze. 

“C’mon, get out of zhe—way—” The fervor in Medic’s hands had seized when they brushed against and stopped at Sniper’s leg.

“Doc, it’s not over here.” Sniper’s eyes veered away towards the opposite side of the van and never returned. It was becoming too much for him.

Medic squinted and carried on with his search, only this time slower. Every time his hand slinked under the sheets closer to Sniper’s body, the assassin grunted—or flinched—and shifted towards the open edge of the bed.

The subtle movements of Sniper couldn’t be hidden, and the doctor’s anger was supplanted with growing interest. His hand veered off his original course closer to where Sniper was sitting, and each slither left the Australian scooting away just a little more, until Sniper finally snatched up his wandering wrist.

“Wot d’you think you’re doing?” Sniper asked in a low roll caught deep in his throat. Medic’s deer-in-headlights gape did nothing for his case, but he quickly composed himself the best he could by trying to snatch his wrist back.

“Looking for my sock, I said zhat already.”

Sniper didn’t let go, but rather clutched on tighter. “Nah,” he remarked, rubbing the sides of his wrist in his hand, “you’re lookin’ for trouble.” 

Medic’s breath hitched in his throat as the huntsman sized him up with greedy, predatory eyes. It was only then he remembered he was still in the other man’s uniform with nothing on except boxers. 

Internally, he had already fled the van. 

“Just...help me find vhat I’m looking for and I’ll go.” Sniper still had his wrist, and it seemed he had no intention of unlatching him from his grasp. “Sniper, cut it out—”

“ _Don’t_ play games with me.” His eyes darted from the German to behind him at the corner of his bed. “There, look. Your sock is over there.”

“I’m not falling for zhat—”

“Y’bloody bogan, just look behind you, and you’ll see—”

“Just let me go and move to zhe side so I can check!” Medic jerked his arm back sharp enough that he hit his head on the ceiling and crashed back down into Sniper, who almost fell off the bed.

Staccato breaths, and the sound of _his_ heart again. Medic questioned why he ever got angry in the first place as the scent he grew to love flooded his nostrils.

Resistance pinged in the medicine man’s mind. Professionalism, decency, self-control, _bodily-control_ \--all gone and replaced by the soft, warm feeling of fuzz-sprinkled skin. 

He peeled himself to view the Aussie’s treasure trail which served as his crash landing strip. When he entirely pulled away, he was yanked by the wrist again, then grabbed by the shoulder once more.

“Y’wanna play Sven? Fine by me.” Sniper’s lithe fingers traced along the hills of the doctor’s arm as he spoke, enrapturing the man before him with his raspy, lulled voice. 

A leg was strewn over the side of the bed, and he sat up against the makeshift headboard, dragging the German over by his wrist so he’d crawl just a little closer into him. “But you better be willing to stick with this game from start t’finish.”

Sniper kept him close enough that their noses touched, and looked him square in the doctor’s newly glassy eyes. He tilted his head and inhaled gently from his mouth—a move that sent expectant shivers down Medic’s spine—before exhaling and pulling away. A faint whine escaped the doctor.

“Feel that? That’s the sensation of bein’ set free after being trapped for so bloody long.” Sniper let go of Medic’s wrist after his whispers and shoved him back. The distance remained close though, cheeks painted with fire and eyes darting about for a sign, any sign at all.

“Yes,” Medic hushed back, inching into Sniper’s body more, “it’s a feeling I can empathize with all too vell.” Their noses met once more, and the doctor picked up on Sniper holding his breath. He lifted a hand to cup his cheek before retracting it to slip it underneath where Sniper was seated.

Medic’s hand lingered about as he clenched his jaw in anticipation, and Sniper no longer shifted in his seat. Rather, his shoulders were relaxed, and he closed his eyes in a rare display of submission the doctor didn’t think was possible. 

“I zhink I’m going to do a little research…after I find zhis sock you seem to be hiding from me.”

“Oi told ya, it’s on the other edge of the bed. Seems y’too stubborn ta believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you, Liam,” Medic huffed, hand halting just inches away from Sniper’s upper thigh.

 

“Ayo, Snipes, y’in there?”

Three loud bangs rapped on the door, and the noise was enough to startle Sniper completely off the bed and onto the floor.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Sniper clutched onto his back and Medic watched from up top while covering his mouth. No way would he be caught in Sniper’s van; the team would never let him rest for it no matter what excuse was given.

“Snipes, you alright man? C’mon, open up already, I ain’t got all day.”

“Bugger off!”

“Wha—hey man, if I don’t return with ya, Captain America’s gonna pike my head on a fence somewhere.”

“Soldier—what’s—shit, what’s that brute want?” 

“Dunno, but you can ask him when we get back—”

“I’ll be there by breakfast, just tell ‘im ta wait!”

“Fine, fine, but I’m not goin’ back there—you tell ‘im that yo’self, pal. I’ma jog ta town.”

Sniper focused on the sound of crunched gravel fading away before slumping completely on the floor. By then, Medic had climbed down the ladder and crouched beside Sniper.

“Oi…damn it—look, I’ll be alright, just…go on, get outta here.” As graceful as possible, Sniper rolled onto his stomach and stared at the floor in shame. 

“You might have a herniated disc, zhere could be a fracture—you fell pretty hard, zhe van shook—”

“I’m fine.” He propped himself up on his arms, moving every so often with the occasional grunt. 

“I’ll be back. How bad does it hurt?”

“S’not the first time I fell from up top. I’m not some fancy china doll, I’m an Australian.” 

“Vhatever, you’re human.” Medic rose in an odd manner before climbing back to his bunk to grab the lost sock. The rest of his clothes were soon thrown on, yet he chose to keep wearing Sniper’s shirt. 

“I’m going to my office to get a few supplies, including my medigun. Zhat should patch up anything.”

“Y’don’t need to lug that heavy thing over here, oi’ll stop by in a bit…Doc? You listenin’ to me?” Sniper glanced up from the floor to see Medic staring at him.

"Wot?"

"Nozhing, nozhing." He laced up his boots and threw on a nearby jacket of Sniper’s before grabbing his keys from his bag. 

“Just...stay put. Right zhere. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—”

Before Sniper could finish, the doctor had bolted out, door slamming behind him. 

The sounds of nature were pronounced again, though birds outside the van had to compete with the slight rustling of Sniper slowly rutting against the floor. His back was in an excruciating amount of pain, yet the sight of Medic in his clothes on his bed was permanently etched in his mind. 

"Fuckin' _nurse_ ", Sniper whined as he applied more pressure on his painfully hard cock, grinding into the ground. The friction felt wonderful, and he soon found himself pawing at the floor as pre-cum leaked through his thin boxers. It didn't take long before his muscles locked up and he released all over the floor and under his kitchen table.

Spent, the hunstman shivered and fell limp, with the pains from earlier resurfacing. He found himself drifting, half-asleep and half-blissful, hoping he'd have enough energy to clean up his mess before Medic returned. 

He tried to crane his neck to see the clock, but failed.

"Doesn't matter," he whispered to himself, "we've got all the time in the world."

He laughed with himself until he finally drifted into dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "well wtf, why didn't they just kiss right there"  
> because, lust 'n love are dangerous common-sense-altering drugs, stay in medical school, kids
> 
> -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
> 
> Intense fights can temporarily channel extreme feelings like hate. Last I checked, to hate and to love require equally large amounts of passion.
> 
> And true passion's one of the purest forms of expression us humans have. 
> 
> New chapter comin' soon, hopefully. Thanks for tunin' in.


	13. Chapter 13

_Scheiß!_

Boot heels echoed through the bases’ corridor with urgency. He needed to get to his office, without being seen by a soul.

Down the hall he scurried, until he jammed his hands into his bag to find his office’s keys.

_C’mon…_

Every couple seconds he made sure no other team mate had saw him as he fumbled with the lock. After launching his body through the door and closing it behind him, he let out a heavy sigh of relief.

The bag was strewn aside as he whipped around his table to grab a smaller set of keys not kept on his key ring. He made his way to the back of his office, where pulsing glows awaited him on the other side of the door.

Inside, the doctor huffed and moved to view the ample minigun prototypes he had aligned. His Quick-Fix was hung up against the door, but others (including a memory-altering gun, an offensive sedation beam, and a peculiarly-shaped gun filled with lavender fluid) were passed by as he went towards the back of the room for his chrome-coloured Kritzkrieg encased in glass. 

As he pulled at the tubing and nozzle, a few knocks on his office door had set him on edge.

If it was Sniper, then it was fine, he figured. But if it was anybody else…

Medic quickly—but gingerly—pulled the pieces out from the case and brought them up front before heading to the door.

“Ayo, Doc, lemme in.”

“Go avay Scout, I’m bus—vait a moment. Vhat are you doing here?”

“Whatta’ya talkin’ about? I’m on dis team, dis here’s my base, th’hell kinda question is that?”

Medic’s eyes narrowed as he assessed the fidgety youth before him. “I zhought you vere running. Vhat are you—Oh gott, _no_ , I do _not_ vant to speak wizh you right now!” He tried to slam the door, but a hand pushed back against it.

“Yeah, well, ain’t no sense in tryna run now, _‘cause I ‘ave witnessed everyzhing_.” The ruse had dropped to reveal the much unwelcome rogue. He tugged at his suit before letting himself in, closing the door behind him.

“Just because you are here doesn’t mean I vant to talk to you.”

“Because you will not be ‘ere long, mm? And my, what a nice change in uniform and—class?”

Medic looked back down and cussed internally before heading back to his gun cabinet.

“Vas zhat you at zhe van then? Shouldn’t you be trying to gazher intel on zhe robots so we can better fight zhem , herr Spy?”

“Mm? Yes, I suppose so, but I like to keep tabs on my friend. After all, ‘e’s been acting strange as of late. ‘e’s never around, and I can never seem to talk to him—”

“Zhat sounds like a sad story.” The door was locked and Medic moved back to his desk to grab his nearby violin. “Vould you like me to play a song about your distress?”

Spy frowned as the Medic put down his instrument and continued grabbing things about the infirmary.

 

“Docteur—”

“Vhat, Spy?’ 

“Do you love ‘im?” 

All movement ceased before he spun around and looked Spy in the eyes. “Vhat?”

“I did not stutter. Zhe Sniper. Do you love ‘im?” 

Medic turned back around and grabbed nearby items to shove in his already overfilled bag. “Zhat’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Spy took to a cigarette and lit it, and for the first time in years, Medic completely ignored it. 

“It is!” He re-attached his Kritzkrieg, adding a few custom parts that weren’t approved by Mann-Co as of yet before stripping Sniper’s shirt and easing it onto his desk. He rushed back to his room to grab a tank and a lab-coat before throwing those on as well.

“Hmm. Did you fuck ‘im zhen?”

Nearly dropping the gun, Medic bore widened eyes at his interrogator.

“Vha—No! _No_ , vhat _zhe hell_ , vhat is _wrong_ wizh you? He is mein patient—”

“So am I.” 

An angered flush rushed Medic’s cheeks as he fought to find words. He equipped the gun’s backpack on without uttering a word before turning back around to Spy in disbelief.

“You are a different case! Vhat, you zhink vhen zhe rest of zhe team members have an itch, I jerk zhem off too?”

“Non,” he hushed, putting out the last of his smoke.

“Zhe treatment zhat you asked me for—zhe treatment zhat vas supposedly vorking—zhe treatment zhat you _lied_ to me about vas not a completed serum, and I only used it on you for—”

“Medical purposes and research, yes you’ve said—”

“Nein, just shut up!” Spy held his breath at Medic’s sudden outburst and re-crossed his legs. 

“Zhen…”

The German sighed. “I used it on you because I tailored it to vork for you. I had been vorking on a similar serum to suppress emotional and sexual attachments so zhat ve could get more female mercenaries on zhe team. Ve’d be able to be human vithout it impacting our vork. But zhe initial batch vas too unfocused, too broad, and you had been getting over vhat happened—”

“Yes, no need to talk about it again—”

“—So I figured you vould be zhe perfect person to test it out on. 

“Besides, you are my friend. I’d like to keep you alive and happy zhe best I possibly can. Zhe serum is painful, but it revs you up, so zhe least I can do is help wizh your release from time to time. After all, zhe serum induces it.” He gathered a folder from his table, completely missing the facial contorts of a man unraveling before him.

Spy cleared his throat and took out another fag, lighting it up and inhaling as much as he could.

“You would want to keep me ‘appy, non?”

“Yes, but apparently, you hate me enough to be a pain in zhe arsche everytime ve meet lately! Vhat is zhe matter vith you anyvay?” Medic had nothing else to pack, and so he stood, a hand on his hip, awaiting a reply.

“Vell, I ‘ave lied to you—”

“Zhat much is obvious, who knows how long ago zhe treatment stopped vorking!”

“—I ‘ave lied to you from zhe start.” 

Medic settled down and moved to sit in his chair. “I don’t understand, vhat are you talking about?”

Spy hopped down from up top Medic’s desk and sauntered around, replanting himself on the desk's corner. Medic eyed him as he lit up a third cigarette, puffing out smoke up to the vent above them.

“Zhat Winter’s events have never affected my performance.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, Spy, ve both know zhat hit you harder zhan you’d like to admit.”

“No. It hurt, of course. But zhat did not make it so zhat I could not enjoy anozher’s company.”

“Vell zhen, who did? Someone you didn’t tell me about? Oh my god, vas it a girl from one of your dates—“

“Sven, do you love zhat Sniper?” He put out his cigarette prematurely before rising from the table.

“Vhat does zhis have to do wizh you—”

“Just answer zhe question.”

Medic glared back at the man towering over him before adjusting his glasses and swiveling his chair away. 

“No, I am not in love wizh him.”

Spy donned a weak smile before making his way towards the door. “You never really were a good liar. Tell me,” he started as he clutched his disguise kit to his chest, “was  
zhere ever a point in your life you cared for somebody so much, it made you sick?”

The doctor combed through his hair and thought. “Once. But zhat was only vhen I vas younger, und zhe boy I vas after vasn’t interested in me.”

“Yes, zhat sounds about right. Well, I will leave now, as I wish not to keep you from your “patient” any longer.” 

The shutters to the door flapped against the glass behind the closed door, leaving Medic in ponderous stupor. “What was zhat about, vhy vould he care—”

Medic shuddered as the pieces came together in his mind. 

_How could I have not noticed?_

Two knocks on the door once more had him springing up to rush to the knob.

“Ah, I apologize. I seem to ‘ave left my lighter on your table.” 

Medic looked back and let him in, still in awe of this new revelation. He stood at the door when Spy came back, but blocked the door when he tried to leave.

“Medic?”

“You,” he gulped, careful with his next words, “do you—”

“Am I still? Come now, I am all for games, but zhis is one I would razher not play.”

“Zhis whole time?”

Spy let out a snort. “Ah, monsieur, you seem troubled. Perhaps if I had been a bit more assertive, zhen zhings would ‘ave been different, non? 

"Still, mon ami, I do not give up, so you need not worry. Now, it is late in zhe morning; I have spoken with you longer zhan I intended. I must go. We will talk again, but not for a while. Take care, docteur.”

His cloak reflected three times in the palling light before becoming invisible once more. Medic let the door open and close on its own before dragging himself to finish putting together his gun.

He wished to know just how late it was into the morning, how long he had kept Sniper waiting on the van of his floor in pain, but it didn’t matter. 

He had to tend to Sniper now. 

Sniper was his current patient.

His current concern.

And that was enough to get him grabbing his things with vigor and back out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I went back to recall something from the first chapter, I misread Sniper's line and decided that what I read was infinitely better than what I wrote initially:
>
>> "Doc—" Sniper tensed at each word the Medic uttered. _Too smooth, too soft, he thought. Must be after_ **m’orgasms.** _T’hell wit’ that._
> 
> **Medic's after m'orgasms.**
> 
>  
> 
> Sounds like an in-game spray idea. You're welcome.


	14. Chapter 14

“Ayo, frog face—hey, you alright man?”

It was always rare to see Spy roaming the premises uncloaked. If Scout caught Spy on the commons couch staring at the day’s baseball game, avoiding his cigarettes entirely, chances are the rogue was currently under extreme emotional duress. 

Most of the time he pegged himself lucky, as he seemed to be the only team member who tended to catch Spy like this, eyes vagrant and mind entirely elsewhere.

When Scout’s question remained unanswered, he shrugged and went into the kitchen to grab two beers before trying again.

“Yo, c’mon, move over ‘r somethin’, I wanna watch the game too.

“Look, I know you ain’t out here a lot, and _somethin’s_ goin’ on wit’ya, but ya gotta,” Scout’s voice shrunk as Spy reached under his balaclava to scratch his neck. He scooted twice over without a sound and slumped himself over the arm of the chair. 

No retorts, no insults. Scout huffed in defeat.

“Yeah, thanks. Hey, I uh…I bought ya somethin’ to uh…you drink beer right? It ain’t that fancy stuff you get from back home, but,” Spy craned his neck over and eyed the sweating bottle before reaching out and taking it. 

“ _Merci_ ,” was all he muttered before downing half the cheap ale. His face scrunched, and he set the bottle couchside on the floor.

“So uh, you wanna talk about it? I mean, if you don’t wanna, dat’s fine ‘n everything, but I don’t wanna be babysitting a mopey old man while I watch the uh,” his eyes flicked to the tv to see two entirely mediocre teams playing. He couldn’t care less who’d win or lose, and so he huffed.

“Look man, how long you been staring at this tele?”

“ _Trois heures et—_ ”

“English!”

“Three hours and twenty-two minutes.”

“You’ve been counting this…never mind.” Scout looked away from the mess of a man and cracked open his bottle with the heel of his hand.

“S’what, date ain’t go right ‘o somethin’? Lemme guess, heh, Helen asked you to see her in her office again?”

Scout started snorting and laughing, but soon after cleared his throat and stared back down at his bottle. 

It seemed there was another homerun. The batter jogged across the field through the bases waving, and all that could be heard in the hollow space was the crowd’s  
laughter. It made Scout uncomfortable.

“Boy, ‘ave you ever...tsh, what am I saying, you are far too young—”

“Hey, ‘ey, waitta minute now, too young? I’m old enough ta…ta _do stuff_! Old enough ta drink this ‘ere beer, yeah? I’ve seen a few things in my life, s’don’t gimme dat “too young” bull crap!”

“You cannot relate, it doesn’t matter.”

“Y’don’t know dat until ya try to relate first ya know.” 

Spy lifted himself from the edge of the sofa and looked over to the young man. The normal aggressive flicker in the boy’s eyes was subdued for Spy's sake, it seemed. 

“Zhat is true.” 

“I…I know it is! And I ain’t get that off no movie either, I’m not as stupid as you all think—”

“I do not zhink you moronic, Scout,” he interrupted, now reaching in his coat for his trusty kit, “I merely find you annoying.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“So you ‘ave had multiple partners in your life, non?”

“Y-of course I have, what kinda question is dat? Just look at this face, these muscles, these abs!” Scout’s shirt flew high above his stomach to display what was probably the only available six-pack on the team. “And let’s not forget, these baby blues.” He batted his eyes twice, and Spy held his stomach in laughter.

“Ha, you’d think those legs and thighs are what get you laid, not zhat overbite.”

“Aww, you’re just jealous now. Sorry pally, I’m off the market.” 

Thanks to the youngster, Spy was distracted enough to finally lite himself a cigarette. He puffed away from Scout—a courteous gesture even the kid picked up on—and re-adjusted himself on the couch.

“H-hey, what’s the big idea?”

“Relax. I just need to stretch my legs.” Scout looked down at his teammate’s limbs crossed over his knees before finishing his beer.

“So, y’gonna tell me what’s up?”

“’ow do I even start?”

“Well…ya know, ya could—”

“Zhat was a rhetorical question…but now zhat I think about it, I am at a loss for words.”

“Well, is it the ladies? Look, you might be into the fancy-shmancy, wine-‘n-dine game, but most girls just like it when ya tell ‘em there’s the cutest in the world—”

“Alas Scout, zhey are not ‘girl troubles’.”

“Oh. Guy troubles then?”

“Oui.”

“Wait, seriously?” Spy used his legs to pin down the jumpy kid, sshing him from further outbursts. 

“Zhe rumours about me are mostly true, _mon ami_. Zhis should not come as surprise, unless you are dense and in denial.”

“Nah, nah, I mean, I knew, it’s just uh,” Scout rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, “I jus’ never thought you’d talk to me about this or anything like dat.” He looked back over, swearing a rather predacious grin flashed off the older man’s face.

“Yes, neither did I. After all, who would want to be called a faggot so early in zhe morning, or a homo in zhe middle of the day after slaying zhe enemy?”

“Aight, aight, I get it. But look, there are some things even I can’t make fun of. If ya like girls, cool, girls. Cute breasts and a tiny waist’s real cute, yeah? And if you like guys, cool. Nice face and killer muscles like these,” he flexed again, “cool. I guess ya got it good if ya like both world and then some right?” 

A nervous laugh escaped Scout before he slumped into the couch and shook his empty bottle. Spy knew everything listed on Scout’s dossier from his first misdemeanor to the last place he lived. Never in a thousand years did he peg the boy to have such liberal views. It was uplifting and disappointing at the same time. 

“You also like men, your words have made zhat very clear.” 

“I—uh—look, don’t—just…man, just—seriously, if they knew, if _Snipes_ knew—”

“Sniper?” 

“Crap, don’t—don’t tell anybody, alright! It’s hard enough as it is.

“I see ‘im every day whether he’s in dat camper van, or at the base ‘cause I run by there inta town.” Scout leaned over Spy’s legs to stare closer at the flashing images of the television. “He swears he’s Australian—I mean, he is, but—he ain’t crazy like Hale or nothin’, ya know? But just ‘cause he says it, its…like he ain’t into guys or nothin’ like that, so I do my best to just ignore how I feel, ‘n see other people.”

“You haven’t been on a date in two years.”

“Dat’s—dat’s not entirely true! I snuck out one night to see someone, and well…dat was a really bad idea.”

“I see.”

“It sucks on ice, especially when he’s on base! He must'a been _hot_ he was when he was younger, ya know? I mean, he’s still hot now and everything and—hey, why you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Besides zhat stupid, life-threatening beverage you constantly chug on zhe field, I ‘ave never seen you so impassioned about anybody or anyzhing.”

“W-well, hey, I like who I like! And no matter who I date, these feelin’s’ ain’t gonna change, believe me, I’ve definitely tried to shake ‘em! So I just y’know, look from afar. Ma always said to pray ‘n stuff, but that ain’t really me. I’d be lying to ya though if I told ya I didn’t wish Snipes went gay for a day or somethin’—you even think I’d have a chance?”

Spy held off his laughter as he moved his legs from the boy. “Maybe. But I suppose you mustn’t give up…or razher, give him up.”

“He ain’t mine though, can’t do nothin’ ‘bout dat.”

“True. But he is here, so while he’s here, just…” Spy stopped mid-sentence as the base doors swung open.

 

“Wot’s this? Spook ‘n the kid havin’ a powwow? Well that’s somethin’ y’don’t see every day, yeah?” 

“Move, Sniper, I have to get you to zhe x-ray machine, I’m not even sure zhe Medigun worked, zhe damned zhing—”

“Doc, relax, oi’m fine, just sore. N’can I _please_ go back to my van, I’m trying to avoid Soldier.”

“ _No_ , to zhe Med Bay, _schnell_.”

The seated pair gawked at the other supports who eased past them towards the back of the facility.

Scout finally exhaled and stared at Spy wide-eyed. “God, that was awful! Hey, Spook you alright?”

“I must go now, Scout. Let us continue zhis conversation anozher time, yes?” Spy fussed with his leather gloves before grabbing two more cigarettes.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Hey, how’s tomorrow sound?”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he sprung up on his feet and toyed with his tags, “after we whack some of dem bots, we can go to the bar or somethin’! There’s a coupl’a gems two towns over, if ya willing to sit in a car that long!”

“Zhat…hmm. Very well zhen, tomorrow’s fine—”

“Great! I’ll invite Sniper too…and Demo, and…hell I’ll invite everybody! I’ma do that now! See ya, Croaks!”

“Croaks, what zhe hell…wait!” Too late. The bundle of energy zipped away, and out of sight.

Spy wasn’t sure whether or not a team trip out was such a good idea, but he grit his teeth and figured maybe something good would come from the outing. Then again, he could always sneak out the base and avoid them all. 

He picked up both his and Scout’s bottle from the floor and started pressing buttons on his watch, juggling whether or not he wanted to go. Scout's words ruminated in mind, the story an exact replica of one his own, yet somehow the kid was handling it better. 

_No matter_ , he thought. He was a Spy, and he was going to go about this the only way he knew best. 

The cloak shimmered across and veiled his body, and without the slightest peep, he set to his quarters to begin a daring and diabolical set of plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
> 
> erhm ;\\..
> 
> Had to re-write this chapter, since I hated the first version.


	15. Chapter 15

"Erngh! C’mon Doc, y’don’t need to be that rough!”

Maddened eyes met the assassin’s before barely muffled murmurs exploded into full-on enjoyment. The whole experience left Sniper’s knuckles bleached from gripping the gurney in fear.

The supposed broken discs or fractures he urged Sniper to check out were _fine_. Hell, everything was fine, albeit a bit sore. Yet here he was, in Medic’s dungeon once again. 

Staring down at the doctor’s quickened pace to get his patient’s shirt off left Sniper confused and flustered. How he allowed himself to get herded into his office again boggled the Sniper’s mind. He felt like one of his father’s sheep on the way to slaughter. 

The faint giggles and heavier breathing were becoming harder to ignore, and Sniper shifted his weight on the table. Too much movement however resulted in a vice grip on his waist, and a snap in the doctor’s temperament so polar, it made the Aussie shudder.

“Hold. Still.”

“T’hell are you doin’ anyway?”

“Checking,” he whispered as he traced his fingers along Sniper’s ribcage in a delicate fashion.

“Honest ta God, I swear oi swear oi’m fine.” 

As expected, he was fully ignored, and the doctor walked behind him to finish the removal of his shirt. 

“Just relax, I’ll just give you a massage und zhen a quick über flash and I’ll let you go.” The words danced off Medic’s tongue as he took his gloves off and threw them aside--a contrary treatment to Sniper’s well-folded shirt placed aside with utmost care. “Besides, you need rest. And I have a great deal of work to do after zhis.”

“Well, y’can forgo the damn massage, and save me some time,” Sniper mumbled. He flinched when two warm hands started to ply at his lower back, kneading and working at the muscle with just the right pressure. Sniper’s breath stuttered twice as he grunted at each wave of exerted force, and it wasn’t long before he started to slump into a mess of a man. 

"Zhere, is zhat a little better?"

Sniper didn't say much, but rather pushed himself further back into Medic’s hands, hoping the doctor would make his way upward along his spine. Since his job was mostly a seated one with bad posture often a problem, the rub down was especially welcome, even when he didn’t want to admit it.

When the warmth of Medic’s hands retracted, Sniper opened his eyes and scowled with a groan.

“Vell, if I knew any better, zhat sounded like you didn’t vant me to stop.”

“Y’learn that in med school too?”

Medic came back around with Sniper’s shirt and a wide smirk. “Nein.”

“Then?” 

“Zhat doesn’t really matter, now does it? After all, you feel better, right?”

Sniper started to slide down before Medic placed his hand over his quickening heartbeat.

“Hold on.” Medic pointed with his other hand to the hoisted gun above the table and looked back down. “I’m almost fully charged.”

“That was on t’whole time?”

“Yes, vhy?”

Sniper looked away and figured the massage felt spectacular due to the added bonus of the healing gun. As if his thoughts were displayed aloud, Medic cleared his throat and fixed his glasses. “Of course, if you zhink zhat massage vas all gun, I can give you a proper one when time permits.” The tails of Medic’s lab coat whipped his legs as he walked back to his desk with a smirk.

“And jus’ how often y’give the other blokes yer special nursin’?”

Medic laughed before picking up a pen and opening a folder to scribble inside it. “Oh, you’re quite funny, you know zhat? You almost sound jealous.” He wiped a theatrical tear from his eye before settling back down.

The sound of electricity jolting brought the Medic from his writing and back over to the huntsman.

“Zhere. Fully charged,” he chimed.

“Well, go on Doc.” 

The Medic squinted his eyes and smiled before letting it fade away again. “I vant to know if I can use a special formula on you today.”

“Wot? Y’want me to be y’guinea pig?”

“Oh, don’t zhink of yourself like zhat. You’re more of a hero of science. Doesn’t zhat sound nicer?”

“Nah.”

Medic let his hand rest on Sniper’s bare shoulder before laughing once more. “Come now, I vouldn’t hurt such an interesting patient such as yourself. Not too bad, at least. I mean, maybe some irreparable damage, but nozhing zhat would stop you from doing your job.” 

Sniper sighed as he looked at the doctor’s calm face and glacial eyes before scratching his head. “Wot’s in it? Or rather, what is it?”

“Mm, vell, it’s just an herbal blend, mostly. Vaporized and concentrated, so it’s natural, if zhat’s vhat you are vondering about. And it’s supposed to help zhe subject relax. I’ve been vorking on it for quite some time, but never really had a reason to test it. 

“Along with zhe mishap earlier, it just might be able to help you rest easier at night vithout zhe nightmares.”

Sniper stroked his chin and fixed his sunglasses before nodding in understanding. “Alright, I s’ppose—”

Without delay, Medic flicked the switch on the altered Kritzkrieg, and Sniper braced the edge of his seat once more through the initial shocking sensation.

“Vell, normally zhis would only last about ten seconds or so, but zhis time, I decided to lengthen zhe übercharge.”

“Wot,” Sniper found it increasingly hard to keep upright. He just wanted to lay out and doze off into what seemed to be an inevitable slumber. The room was starting to move in waves before the huntsman pushed back and extended himself on the gurney. “God, what’s in this stuff. Smells like ‘m in a garden or somethin’.”

“Vell, zhere’s some anise, lavender, palmetto, ginseng, a little hemlock—”

“Hem—” Sniper tried to spring from under the beam but was far too drained, “I thought you said you weren’t tryna kill me!”

The sounds of crackling pierced again, and the odd sensation faded away. Medic slinked back over and flicked the switch on the gun before staring back at Sniper.

“Zhere. All finished! Here, put your shirt back on.” A flash of teeth came and went as the doctor started to dismount the gun. “You know,” he trailed off, cutting his eyes at his patient.

“Wot?”

“Tonight, you might be able to sleep alright. If you don’t, my med-bay vill be open, and you can come down at vhatever time. Just knock a few times or so, as I might be in zhe back or something.” 

“Yeah, alright. Thanks mate.”

“My pleasure,” Medic hummed. He took the disassembled gun and placed it back in its proper case before heading towards his Medigun vault.

Sniper eased himself from where he was seated, only to find his legs a gelatinous mess. He collapsed on the floor, hitting his shoulder fairly hard before trying to rise up again. “Wot in the bloody hell…” 

After blinking a few more times, it seemed the after effects of Medic’s concoction hadn't faded away yet, but rather intensified. Bottles and vials perched on the shelves and counters seemed to be skating about, and when he looked up at the operating light above, it seemed to be changing colours and sizes with every passing breath. “Medic!”

“Vha—gott, did you fall? Maybe zhat vas too strong a dose. Come, up, up.” Medic reached from under Sniper’s arms and pulled him up into an embrace. “All legs zhey say. Hmph, zhat’s a lie—Sniper?” 

The huntsman’s akubra fell off his head and onto the floor as his head jerked over Medic’s shoulder. He wanted to tell him that whatever was happening to him was nauseating and uncomfortable, but he couldn't even find the energy to speak.

“Sniper, are you wizh me?”

A low grumble was all he could muster.

“Hmm…” Medic assessed the inebriated before lugging him over to the nearest patient bed. After hoisting him onto the mattress, he rushed back to grab the standard Medigun.

The huntsman’s eyes were closed and his body felt unnatural. He couldn’t move much, but the fingers he could twitch brushed against the starched sheets, and they felt like the richest fleece. He wanted to fidget some more, feel whatever he could in this hypersensitive state, but his lack of energy disallowed him such pleasures.

“Here ve are.” Medic scrambled back inside and threw the switch on the gun in tow. The beam was hitting the target, and nothing seemed to be malfunctioning, yet Sniper showed no signs of recovery.

Quickly, Medic scurried back to the vault, grabbing his Quick-Fix and a similarly radioactive vial before scurrying back into the room.

By now, Sniper’s heart rate had decreased drastically, but he didn’t seem to notice. The world around him was soft and inviting, and he laughed internally at his current state. There were moments where the assassin felt like he was flying up and out of his skin, but whenever he moved slightly, it brought him back down to Earth. He was quite fond of this new ability, and exercised it calmly with a smile.

“Sniper, can you hear me?” 

Another grunt.

“Zhat vill suffice. Listen, I’m going to über you one more time, und if you don’t recover, I’m going to send you zhrough zhe respawn.” Hopefully it can fix whatever is going on here, Medic thought.

He attached the canister to the end of the medigun and flicked it on to find it already three-quarters charged. While waiting for the gun’s completion, he placed his hand on Sniper’s sweating forehead to find he was burning hot. _Scheiß, his body will overheat soon at this rate._

“Sven,” was all Sniper mustered before his eyebrows started to wrinkle in pain. 

Medic gasped before recomposing himself. “Zhere, zhere. Here.” The gun revved up and the contents of the vial tinted the beam a turquoise colour. The scent of sulfur permeated through the room as the canister’s contents were empty, but there was still no sign of recovery.

“Oh, _das ist nicht gut_.” Medic placed the gun gently on the floor before going behind his desk to grab what seemed to be an Australium scalpel. 

He stepped over the Medigun and sat beside Sniper while stroking his cheek. “Are you in pain, Liam?” Medic watched Sniper’s eyes dart about under his lids, and every caress caused Sniper to grunt low and long.

“Hmm, so zhis feels good zhen. Vell, zhat’s a start, I suppose. I can’t leave you like zhis however, or it might be permanent, so I’m going to sever your carotid artery to gazher blood, und zhen I’m going to snap your neck. Zhat should send you zhrough respawn fairly quickly, as it von’t strain zhe respawn machine zhat much.”

Medic stared down at his shivering patient, smiling at the sight of him up so close, despite the circumstances.

“I’m sorry for putting you zhrough zhis. If you remember anyzhing, be sure to tell me all about it vhen you next see me.” He kissed Sniper on his forehead, and then took the extra liberty of kissing his nose. Feeling the man’s undulate beneath him made the doctor all too giddy. 

Rising from his face, Medic lifted his blade towards Sniper’s neck and cut clean when the doors barged open to his lab.

“Heyuh, Doc, we’re going out tonight to the pub later, so—”

Medic carried on gathering a vial of Sniper’s blood the best he could as it spewed in jets all over his face, the sheets and the patient’s wing in general. The sight of blood everywhere was golden to the doctor, and he savored every moment of Sniper’s drainage. 

His visitor however only saw his teammate savagely murdered. 

“You fuckin’ team-killin’ bastard!”

Medic didn’t hear any of the Scout’s rants as he put on his stethoscope once more and listened to Sniper’s barely audible heartbeat. “Oh, I might not have to snap your neck after all, herr Sniper.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you old man!”

Medic snapped back to reality as the boy charged towards him and seized him by the arm when he got close enough. He slammed the boy’s body down onto the ground and dug his boot into the crevasse of his neck. 

“First of all Scout, I don’t remember you ever knocking on zhe door. Zhat’s very rude to intrude in such a manner!” 

“Get off me!”

“Secondly, Sniper here has consented to zhis experiment—”

“Bullshit!”

“I’ll rip out zhat tongue of yours if you interrupt me again.” Scout squirmed and flailed beneath Medic’s boot, but he did not utter another word. “Right! Oh, yes, as I vas saying, he vill be fine. In fact, he should be zhrough respawn in roughly thirty seconds. Here, vhy don’t you meet him as vell vhen he comes through!”

The doctor kicked aside the boy to place his scalpel back on his desk before reaching towards his bone saw. 

“Vell? Ve can do zhis two ways Scout. Eizher you get out of here and meet him in zhe room, or I send you there myself, mm?”

Scout rubbed at his throat before getting up. “Fuck you, Doc,” he spat, “You killed Sniper!”

“Keep it up, and I’ll kill you too! Now get out of my office if you don’t have a medical reason to be here.”

Scout cut his eyes at the doctor before looking back at the drained husk that was Sniper. The sight petrified him and churned his stomach, and he swallowed hard before Medic moved into his sights with an even harder scowl.

“You vould zhink you never saw him dead out zhere on zhe field before.” Scout squared up with the doc before making his leave. “So protective too. Very unlike you, boy.”

“Fuck. You,” he shouted before slamming the door behind him. 

Medic still watched the door, analyzing such an outburst over Sniper’s death. 

“He doesn’t even talk to him, so vhy vould he even care. He must vant attention again.” Speaking to himself out loud however did nothing to convince him of that lie, as his suspicions lied elsewhere. 

The doctor took Sniper’s bloody remains and set them off the bed he rested on. He cocked his head to the side to take in the absolute sight of his blood plastered on the walls, floors, pillows and sheets. 

_Liam is everywhere_ , Medic thought to himself.

Instead of cleaning the blood, the doctor took to his room to grab some water before settling in at his desk to open Sniper’s file.

As he wrote in the man’s file, Medic had a hard time differentiating this report from just another entry in his journal. If he could write about and experiment on such a fascinating person each time, maybe—just maybe—the doctor would find true pleasure in his medical work once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_  
> I'm goin' through some stuff right now, so I haven't been able to write properly, I guess.  
> Anyway, here's a chapter. If it seems like a filler, I assure you, it ain't, so hang tight.
> 
> Much love to all of ya'll, I'll try to update soon. Thanks for stickin' 'round.
> 
> Edit: Fixed a silly mistake.   
> Also, Medic's quick German translation: "That is not good."
> 
> The power of proofing.


	16. Chapter 16

Sniper held his head for dear life as he realized he was granted another. The sterility of the room and nearby cubbies filled with battle gear only meant he had recently died. _How_ exactly was awfully hazy.

A thumping occurred in his head, drilling the huntsman’s eardrums over and over. His heart was pounding, and his limbs fatigued from the re-fabrication. The added incessant banging was the cake's icing, and it was just too much.

He finally glanced up from the tiled floor at the blurry figure before him. Patting his face before grumbling, he squinted to view the cause of his discomfort.

A single baseball was cast at the wall before springing back to its owner. The loyalty needed to cease.

“’ey, will y’quit it kid, m’head can’t take much more of that.”

The ball tried to jump back to its master’s hand, but instead rolled to the corner of the room.

“Snipes, you’re alright,” he sighed. His shoulders fell and he took a deep breath.

“Uh, yeah mate, that’s wot we got this ‘ere thing for, yeah? Say, what're you doin’ in here.”

“I ahh—” Scout shifted his legs and scratched the back of his neck before clearing his throat. “I know who killed you. And I ain’t about t’ let that bastard get away with it!”

“Hmm.” Sniper tried to focus on exactly how he lost his life, but things were still a blur. _A few minutes_ , he told himself, since memories of battle had a tendency to regenerate the slowest, if they even did at all. “Can’t remember wot happened yet, wanna be my refresher?”

“N-no!” Scout cried, face wrinkled as he recollected imagery of the bloodbath below. Sniper had snapped his fingers twice in the boy’s face before he came to.

“You alright?”

“Huh? N-no! I found him slicing your neck, and—and your blood, it was everywhere! Hell no, man, I ain’t alright, that was awful what he did to ya! I always knew he was a creep, but not no team-killing, murderin’ piece of shi—”

“Wait, slow down’a minute. You mean Doc?”

“Well who else you think I’m talking about?” Scout’s tone was erratic, octaves higher than his normal squeaking.

“Oh.”

“ _Oh_? That’s all you have to say? He-he killed you, even lied and said you gave him permission—” 

“Nah, that ain’t a lie, mate. I remember now.”

“What? You _let_ him do that to you?” His mouth hung agape at the idea of Sniper being the doctor’s test subject. Medical experience or not, Medic was a madman in Scout's eyes. 

“Well, yeah. I agreed ta let him test somethin’ on me…I’m assuming it didn’t go right, ‘else I’d still be down there. He probably killed me so whatever happened didn’t stick.”

Scout continued to stare at Sniper, who was now preoccupied looking around the room, mumbling about his lack of glasses. He bumped twice into the opposite end of the bench Scout was perched on before throwing his hands up in defeat.

“This is ridiculous, maybe Medic has my ol’ pair. Respawn never fully works, damn thing.” 

“W-wait, y’can’t go down there man, it’s…” Scout shuddered once more before shaking the image out of his head. “It’s horrible man, nobody needs ta see all that.”

“I’m pretty sure it ain’t nothing different from what we see on the field day t’day,” Sniper chimed. It was the same thing Medic said, and their similar mentalities disgusted the runner. 

Scout picked up the ball from its resting space before rubbing the stitching along its face. “So, uhh.

“Why’d you…you really let him do that to ya?”

“Wot? Well, yeah. He treatin’ whatever I got. Might as well run through spawn a few times if it solves m’ problem.” Scout threw a look of skepticism, eyeing Sniper’s neck in horror as if he was witnessing the act all over again. 

“You actually _trust_ that guy? He tried experimenting on our Pyro once too, and that ain’t go too well. You even _mention_ the Doc around Mumbles and you see him curl up inside that suit. Something about seein’ if he ‘really liked fire’ and the likes. ”

Sniper’s eyes narrowed at the question. Did he truly trust Medic? Immediately, he told himself he didn’t trust anybody, and for the most part, that was true. 

However ever since the doctor stopped him on his way to the van, building up to what occurred just earlier in his house, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t _completely_ trust him. He was helpful, charming, even gentle and apologetic whenever he hurt Sniper. He stood for a moment, touching his forehead, and then his nose before looking back at the boy.

“You seem real interested in the Doc, kid.” Scout’s eyes grew large before he turned toward the glass doors. 

“I don’t trust him man! He just killed you with a smile on his face, and threatened to send me up here after you!”

“Did ya barge in like ya normally do?” 

“Wha—that don’t matter! Besides, I had ta tell him we’re all goin’ out to the pub later on, but I don’t even wanna see him there! If it wasn’t for Croaks, I wouldn’t even—”

“Croaks? Y’mean Spook?”

“Y-yeah. Said all the time he spends healing you these days leaves little time for him to bother the Doc. But he’s crazy too! He’s gonna end up like some screwed-up, messed up, hybridized, sci-fi monster worse than Godzilla or somethin’ man!”

Behind Scout’s flailing and crying was a head-cocked Pyro who waved at the spawn room. Sniper shot him a wave back, setting Scout to turn around and see their onlooker.

“Look,” he sighed, toying with his tags again as he moved close to Sniper. “I don’t want nothin’ bad happening to our ace shooter.” He whispered into Sniper’s ear, slightly embarrassed at how close he was to the other man. He never had a need to invade his personal space, however he figured he’d do what was needed to secure the safety of a friend.

“You’re that worried? Y’know somethin’ I don’t?”

Scout shook his head slowly before backing off. “I know he smiles only when he gets what he wants, man. And we know how he gets when he don’t get his way. Just…be careful.” 

Scout let out a rare shrill when he turned around to a Pyro pressed against the glass. The doors then slid open and welcomed the enigmatic firebug who squeezed Scout into a great hug. 

“Oh, c’mon Py, lemme go!” 

A light struggle with colorful language and ineffective flailing finally got Pyro to drop the Scout onto the floor. He trotted over to Sniper and cocked his head before mumbling.

“Mmmrdic tmmd mr tr grmm yr.” _(“Medic told me to get you.”)_

“Did he now?” Sniper could see the Pyro fidgeting with his gloves and looking around. He didn’t reply. “Well, best not keep ‘im waitin’.”

The two started out of the respawn room (with Pyro particularly skipping slower than normal) when Scout tugged on Sniper’s arm. 

“Wot’s with you?”

“I…seriously man, be careful.”

Sniper saw the sincerity in Scout’s warning, a rare semblance of austerity and true concern on his part. He huffed and tipped his hat before Pyro u-turned to tug on Sniper’s sleeves himself.

“Alright mate. I’ll be careful, yeah? And I’ll tell Doc about us goin’ out later, if ya like.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t do it for me, do it for Frogs.” Scout pushed past the two before jogging around the corner and out of sight.

“Cmm rrn,” (“Come on.”) Pyro grunted before Sniper shook his head and followed him back to Medic’s office.

  


* * *

  


“Hrrr. Rrm nrrt grrn rnny frrthrr.” _(“Here. I’m not going any further.”)_

“No worries, thanks.” As Pyro booked it back up the ramp, Sniper stared at the huge lettering plastered above the double doors that read “MEDICAL BAY” before reaching the handle and opening the door.

“Hey Medi—holy dooley.”

Scout hadn’t exaggerated one bit. The room permeated with the redolence of his blood. Two beds and the area surrounding them were completely covered in dried blood. He wanted to move closer to inspect the scene, but the acidic tinge was nauseating. 

“Doc? Y’ around. Good god, this is…”

“Hallo?” From a side door popped a Medic clad in a light pair of sleeping pants and slippers. His hair was still dripping wet with a few soap bubbles caught in his right ear, but he tended to them with a small tower. “Oh, Sniper, hallo.”

Sniper’s throat clenched as he eyed the scarred patches decorating the doctor’s skin. A welp-like wound traversed his side, along with another which looked like an x mark on his chest. Sniper would have to ask if that was his own doing, seeing it was right where his heart would be. 

“Yeah, y’told me t’see ya?” His eyes tried to focus on the doctor’s, but they would always veer back to the little lock of hair slicked to his forehead, or the random flexing his muscles underwent as he dabbed himself dry. 

“Ah, yes. Sit anywhere except over zhere, obviously. I’ll be right out.”

Sniper dragged a chair to the front of Medic’s desk and plopped down. He looked back over to the bloody sight to try and fathom how so much blood got everywhere.

After waiting what seemed to be an eternity, Medic sauntered in, shuffling with a yawn. Sniper’s file was in hand, and an aromatic scent that was a variant of standard tobacco wafted from the man’s pipe.

“Oh, zhank goodness. I vas actually vorried about zhat procedure. It most definitely took a turn for zhe worst.”

“And y’made sure to have your fun before my body disappeared.”

“Hmm? Oh, vell,” Medic glanced back at patient wing and stared off, “I simply cut at an important place to elicit more blood, is all. I zhink it would have been a bit better if zhat didn’t happen under zhe circumstances it did.”

“How is me ever bleedin’ a better circumstance?” 

“You should let me experiment on you some time, and you’ll see.” He pulled the pipe from the corner of his mouth and smiled before settling down at his desk. 

“How are you feeling by zhe way? Any weird sensations? Headaches, nausea, anything, just tell me everyzhing. Leave out no detail.”

“I’m tired. Feel alright, I guess. A little hungry.”

The scribbling stopped and Medic’s chair was shoved behind him. After removing himself from the table in such an abrupt fashion, Sniper wondered if he had said something wrong. 

_Was it me talkin’ about how tired I am? That don’t make a bit of sense, seein’ he just asked me._

The huntsman could hear the clinking of glass from a far off room.

_Besides, I’m always tired, I haven’t been getting any sleep! Matter of fact, I haven’t gotten much rest since the Doctor started working on getting me back to normal. I can't even tell if he's helpin'. He might be messing with me, or setting me up for some shonky experiment of his._

Sniper’s brow had sunken deep into his face, and his cheeks slowly started to warm. 

“Relax, Sniper.” A bottle was pushed to his end of the desk before Medic went back to his seat. 

“Wot’s this then?”

Medic squinted his eyes before taking his bottle and popping the cap off with his fingers. “I vould hope you know what a beer looks like vhen you see one. Zhere’s no need to brood, especially vhen I’m right here to help.”

Sniper took a swig at the hoppy, malt flavor, and took two more to savor the faint nuances of wheat, spices, and a medley of tropical fruits. He hadn’t had anything this good since he was back at home brewing his own moonshine. The drink was well received on the tongue.

“Doc, where’d you get this?”

“I made it. Well, wizh zhe help of Engineer, of course. He took scraps from Graymann’s bots and helped me wizh a bottler und a small chamber to ferment the ale in. I’m quite pleased wizh zhis batch myself,” he laughed, glancing at the naked bottle before sipping from it again. “Took me a few tries to get it right, but it’s of an acceptable quality now. But don’t go telling zhe others, especially Demo.”

Sniper finished off the last of his beer before looking back at Medic. It seemed there was nothing this man wasn’t involved in. He was a real jack-of-all-trades, just as Sniper was, and his talents seemed endless. The urge to pull Medic over his table for a long and deep kiss was only intensified by the alcohol. He didn’t even know if it was wise for him to be drinking at the moment, and Sniper questioned his ability to reason properly when Medic was around. 

“You know, before zhat child stormed in here earlier, he mentioned somezhing about going out later tonight.”

“Y-yeah, I saw Scout up in respawn.”

“He seemed particularly moved by zhe sight of your death. Like it vas personal for him or somezhing.” Medic’s head tilted to the side in unspoken question.

“Wha—oh, no, we’re not friends or anything like that—”

“Yes, vell, I’m not particularly concerned about zhat,”he sang with confidence. “I’m more so concerned about going to some bar wizh bad booze, so I’d razher drink now before I hang out wizh zhat lot of people. 

“I wasn’t plannin’ on goin’.”

“Oh? Vell, zhat can work zhen. Yes, absolutely.” Medic stood up from his desk and smiled at Sniper. “How about ve stay in tonight? After zhe onslaught. Zhe Administrator seems to believe ve’ll be attacked in roughly three hours. It’ll be a nice way to wind down afterwards.”

Sniper’s glare did nothing to unnerve Medic as he processed his request. Did he want to spend time with Medi—no, Sven alone? Absolutely. Yet Scout’s words from earlier kept nagging him in the back of his head no matter how many times he tried to shake them out. 

“So? Sounds like a plan?”

“Shouldn’t you be researching what’s going on in m’head?” 

Medic walked over to Sniper’s seat, making sure to lean his leg between the legs of the huntsman’s before leaning into his ear. 

“You have more zhan one head zhat needs tending to, so let me do my job. I vill see you later, around 9 or so. But first, do forgive me Sniper for what I’m about to do.”

The blood that rushed to Sniper’s face drained just as quickly when Medic pulled from behind him a syringe, stabbing the Australian into the back of his neck. 

“I need you a certain vay if zhis is to work.”

Surroundings were murky and hazy just as Sniper had experienced before. He didn’t want to run through respawn again, especially right before a battle.

“Doc, I gotta..fight…”

“Nein, no vorries. I’ll lock you tight in my room vhile you rest. You’ll sleep vell, and zhen by zhe time you wake, everyone vill already be gone. Und wizh everyone out of zhe way, I’m sure we can fix whatever discomforts you’re feeling.”

The weight of Sniper’s own head became pronounced, and Medic watched when seconds later he keeled over onto the floor. Reaching down to grab the unconscious man from up under his arms, he heaved him into a hug to drag him towards his room, hoping nobody would come into the medical bay as he worked.

After dragging him to the far end of the corridor towards his personal quarters, smoke alarms screamed about, and Medic quickly placed Sniper on his bed. He raced to the operating theatre and looked about the room to find nobody there. Instead, a put-out cigarette was left on his desk with a matchbook from a place called Geronimo’s Pub.

Medic clenched his teeth as he swatted them into the trash bin. He wasn’t a fan of his plans being thwarted, especially by an uninvited snake slithering in his domain.

It was apparent a certain Spy needed to be dealt with as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much tension, s'only a matter of time.  
> Next chap's gonna be fun-fun-fun.


	17. Chapter 17

Cotton mouth and a chalky tongue: the taste, the sensation of revival. At least, that's what Sniper concluded as he opened his mouth for aeration.

He attempted to lift his unwilling head up, weight, dead. He called out to emptiness, and his only reply were pale echoes from the enclosed space. The room was enveloped in darkness, with light struggling to squeeze beneath the cracks of the door. 

Sniper tugged at his arms and legs but they were still moderately paralyzed. Shapes were forming in the absence of light, shapes of vile perversions the huntsman’s imaginations had conjured. The absence of luminosity can break even the most hardened of souls.

He tried to lift his back up off wherever he was placed. Erratic shimmies later, sensation started to return. The revival moved slow from his toes upward, and he soon wiggled inside his boots, flexing under-appreciated calf muscles. His hips attempted to break from stiffness and function as well. The first time resulted in a large pop--the reminder of age. Second time around, he seemed to be able to move a bit more, and grunted to himself with approval. 

It was about time--he had to get up and get out.

  


Sniper clutched his spinning head, wondering why he felt so groggy, wondering where the hell he was. 

He pushed himself off what seemed to be a plush downed bed and onto the harder laminate flooring. Standing was still impossible, so he crawled towards the door, praying that he could get out in one piece undetected. 

The knob turned twice but it didn't follow through. He threw his body at the base of the door only to confirm it wouldn’t budge. It had been barred from the outside.

Teetering between fear and rage, the hunstman pulled himself up the door handle, stumbling over objects as he dragged his hand along the wall for a switch, a pull string, a dimmer--anything that could illuminate the hole he was locked up in.

And then he remembered just who did this to him.

A surge of rage welled up inside the man, paired with a violent need to bulldoze the barrier separating him from both his captor and the world.

Sniper sat back on the floor and lunged his foot at the door, making as much noise as he could possibly muster. Somebody had to hear him, he thought.

Was just a matter of time.

The room was far too dark to look for any indication of where the sun was in the sky. But deep down, he knew it was time to fight and kill the true enemies at hand, and the rest of his team was out there doing so without him.

His legs retracted from the door before he dropped on his back into a defeated star.

He couldn’t see anything--not even the most obvious details on the roof above him. And so he closed his eyes, imagining he was up in his nest, sniping heaps of metal lemmings left and right.

Scout bots were easy enough to hit. Sniper actually enjoyed the target practice, seeing their strafing code was programmed so predictably and they were equipped with huge heads. The heavy bots were a joke as well. 

Sometimes, a teammate would get clipped by the Sniper bots if they weren’t paying attention, but the AI tended to flail their guns around with the laser sights still turned on, and that made then easy pickings for the huntsman.

No, he’d be having a good time right now killing all those steel duplications.

All except those damned Medics.

Sniper’s eyes exploded open as pangs of discomfort began to consume him. His mind raced about, quickly scanning and recollecting such wretched nightmares he was working hard to suppress. 

It wasn’t long before the light beneath the door has started to fade. The walls of his chamber were closing in on him, and automated laughter echoed in his mind. 

He clutched his head for dear life, applying pressure to his skull to remove the unwelcome evil that was the Medic Bot. 

A whirring noise was slowly making itself known outside, and Sniper’s eyes darted to the door, petrified that rolling towards him was his demise. 

Footsteps followed, halting right at the door momentarily. The assassin held his breath before rushing at the barrier, banging on the metal surface for freedom.

“Oi! Anyone out there! Help me, please!”

Sniper pressed his cheek against the cold floor to view a pair of worn and dented steel-toed boots on the other side. Soldier? Heavy? Surely they would both protest against his entrapment.

But before Sniper had another chance, whoever was outside walked away, leaving the Australian howling and rapping at the door like an outed dog.

The sounds of hissing were initially drowned out by his wails, but soon he turned his attention to the air around the room, squinting as best he could to see what seemed to be particles floating around him.

He tried to shield his face with his sleeve, but it was far too late. As he dropped back down to try and lap clean air from the crevasse of the door, he was already falling prey to the effects of the sleeping gas emitted. 

“Doc...Medic, please,” he whispered as his consciousness slowly faded again. From black to black, it seemed like he was eternally trapped.

  


* * *

  


“Sniper? Sniper?”

Frigid waters made contact with his skin, eliciting a yelp and a hoot. Riddled with goosebumps and soaked from head to toe, Sniper flailed on the floor like a fish out of water before springing up.

“Wot the-- _you!_ ” He tried to get up to protect himself but he only slipped and fell right back down on his tail bone.

“Oh, relax. It’s just a little water.”

“You! Trappin’ me in here like some bloody animal, I outta skin and bleed you dry--”

“Here.” Medic extended his hand with a smile. “Let me help you.”

“I can get up myself! Besides, you’ve done enough helping already if you ask me.”

Sniper crawled from sitting on his bum to rolling over onto his fours before easing his way up. If he wasn’t so angry, he would’ve taken note of the doctor eyeing his behind before shooting his eyes back up at him.

Medic stepped a few paces backwards--almost as if he was making his way to the door.

“Oh no you don’t!”

“Vhat is zhe meaning--”

Sniper slammed Medic against the door by his collar, shutting them both inside the cell.

“Why’d you knock me out, Doc? I ain’t consent to that, last I checked.”

“Sniper, calm down--”

“I’ll be calm when I get some answers!” Sniper slammed his back into the door again, shaking him as if the answers would fall from out his hair.

“I had to make you look like you vere physically incapacitated!”

Sniper eased his grip, but only by a little. “You wot?”

“I had to make you actually _look_ sick.”

“That don’t make any sense--”

“You didn’t vant to go out later on tonight, right? So, I knocked you out.”

“You--” 

Sniper couldn’t believe Medic’s reasoning. In what world does one sedate someone because they were avoiding plans? He could’ve just holed himself up in his van, and everyone would have given up knocking after the first two minutes.

No, Sniper was not convinced.

“Wot what in that shot?”

“I told you, a sedative!”

“You better not lie to me, mate, so help me God--”

“I vouldn’t--ugh!” Medic suddenly headbutted Sniper, forcing the assassin to stagger back and away from the doctor. “Vhat zhe hell has gotten into you?”

“You’ve lost your bloody mind!” Sniper inhaled air through his teeth as he held his forehead.

“Ach, now I’m all wet too...”

“Oi!” he bellowed, “Tell me what you’re planning to do to me!”

“I’m trying to save your sanity! But if you’re going to act like a child, zhen I vill leave you vith your wretched condition!” Medic sighed and banged on the door four times as Sniper started to lunge at the doctor.

Footsteps again. 

And beeping. 

Sniper’s undivided attention was focused on the door.

“Wot’s out there?”

“Just...calm down.”

“ _Wot,_ is outside that door?”

Medic took a step to Sniper to assure him his goodwill, but Sniper threw his fists up defensively.

“I vanted to see if ve could make you zhink differently about certain zhings. Heavy, can you hear me?”

Sniper hadn’t even realized there was an intercom speaker on the wall in the corner behind him. “Da. You want me to send it now?”

“Yes please, zhank you--”

“Send wot in?”

The door eased open ever so slow, revealing an inorganic plinth of trauma.

Heavy flicked the switch and Sniper actually flinched when the entity flickered to life.

“This some kinda sick joke?” Sniper roared, visibly shaken in his hands as he pointed outward.

“Sniper, vill you please--”

“No! Where’s my knife, so I can carve a hole inta that thing!”

With adrenaline pumping, Sniper scanned the room for anything large enough to take on the unwelcome robot powering up before him. 

He smashed fourteen vials, twelve beakers, an empty picture frame, and one of Medic’s unused aviaries--much to Medic’s disdain--before getting his hands on a broomstick, breaking it into two over his knee.

“Oi’m not dying t’night, y’son of a--!”

Steam had escaped through the bots sides and Sniper waited. Medic watched carefully too, making sure that the (rightfully) crazed man didn’t destroy his pet project. 

Its arms extended and Sniper readied his sticks. He would stab it to death with splinters if need be.

“ _Preliminary booting complete. Secondary booting complete. Initializing profile STUTTHART. Tertiary booting complete. Restarting.”_

"Heh. Stutthart, very clever," Medic laughed to himself before smiling at Heavy. 

Heavy stood outside the door watching in awe with his teammates at the marvel that was this robot. His contract entailed murdering these nuisances on a daily basis, so why Medic would want help capturing one escaped the Russian entirely. Heavy knew Spy and Medic were a bit more cordial with each other than he was, and so he figured this was just a favour from one man to the next. He scratched his naked head, reflecting on just how wrong he was.

The robot finally juiced itself back up and opened its iridescent, laser blue eyes before glancing around.

“Sven, hallo!” He buzzed over on his wheel past the Sniper and took the Medic into quite the hug before releasing him and throwing its hands on its hips.

“Mein Gott, it vorked!” Medic’s eyes glittered with cheer as they scanned the metal man. “I owe Engineer for zhis one, for sure. Heavy, can you go get him for me, bitte?”

“Da, will get him now. But doktor, is leetle robot dangerous?”

“Nein my friend, he is anyzhing but zhat. Engineer and I have been vorking to reprogram zhe bot for both Sniper’s sake and well...for me to have a little extra assistance around zhe base. Also, zhe data stored on it beforehand vas a late present to our Spy.”

“It would be much appreciated if you vouldn’t talk about me like I’m just a pile of scraps, Herr Doktor,” the automaton screeched out dryly. 

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry. Actually, since zhis is technically your rebirth, you vill need a name ozher zhan ‘doctor’, or ‘Medibot’. Vhat vould you like to be called?”

Sniper just stared in part fascination and part disgust. What the hell was this? And why does he need a name? 

His glasses almost slid off his face as he stared trying to figure out why the AI was grabbing at its chin, or why it would scratch at its arm. It wasn’t human, so why was it acting like one? The whole look only made Sniper more suspicious, and he grumbled under his breath.

“Vell, Jürgen vas found in my databanks durings a random scan, so zhat vill suffice.” Eager to roll about and explore his surroundings, the robot picked at research notes, containers and whatever it could get its cold hands on. 

Medic was fast enough to move out of its way, understanding its vigor to learn about all the new things around him. 

“Oh, Sven, vhat is zhis? Some kind of liquidated serum for zhe Medibeam? Or somezhing else? Zhis must be recent, I cannot identify.” The tip of its index finger opened up, revealing a small sampling pin. Before closing, it drew some of the liquid before closing its tip back off, scooting past Medic and stopping directly in front of Sniper.

The Australian clenched his shoulders as his chest caved into itself. _Strength_ , he scolded himself internally. He wouldn’t be intimidated, reminded of the hauntings another one of these bots had plagued him with. 

Damp palms betrayed him as his innards contorted in ways not fit for a healthy man. 

“Wot you want then. G’on.” Sniper’s eyes shifted away from the whirring onlooker. _Why is it still here staring at me?_

“Are you zhe Sniper? Liam?”

He didn’t reply.

“My memories register you as someone I can trust. I’ve got some ozher data as vell regarding your height, veight, blood type, und recent medical conditions. Liam--”

“--Sniper.”

“ _Sniper_...you can put zhe poles down. My intent is not to hurt you, but help you.”

Liam cut his eyes away from the bot to look back up at his captor. He should have listened to Scout. Should have never trusted the doctor. Shouldn't have even left his van this morning. It was becoming too much for the man to handle.

“Can’t trust any of you doctor types. Oi’m leavin’.” 

“Sniper, vait!”

The marksman heard no more. He threw his weapons down and hobbled out of the room, shoving Heavy as best he could, even though the giant had already decided to let him pass. 

His legs could have given at any moment, but he plugged along through the narrow corridor into the main area before seeing the door.

Heavy watched the little man scramble to freedom. He didn’t flinch when the door slammed, but instead turned to his friend.

“Doktor, is okay to let him go like that? He might not come back.”

Both the robot and Medic turned to Heavy, pensive, glistening and concerned.

“Let him be, he has a right to be angry vith me. I vill see him later. Vhere is Engineer? I thought you vent to get him.”

“His office is locked. Music loud. Not a good time to interrupt.”

“ _Entschuldigung, bitte._ ”

“Ja Jürgen, vhat is it? And set English as your primary language.”

It hummed as it carried out Medic's request before returning to normal functionality.

“Zhere, all done. Now, if memory serves me correctly, you are in love vith zhis Sni--”

Medic reached around and shoved the bot further into the room before closing the door, blocking Heavy's line of sight and sound.

“Everyzhing in zhat head of yours is confidential, so do yourself a favour and keep your mouth shut!”

Jürgen’s eyes flickered before huffing out a steeled sigh. “I’m trying to understand zhe situation. He hates robots, and hates doctors, yet he trusts you? And you zhought bringing me to life vould be a good idea? Vhat exactly did you intend for me to do?”

Medic held his index finger up before turning to the door. 

“Heavy...zhere appears to be uhh, a malfunction vith zhe robot--”

“Am not stupid Doktor. I see how you treat Sniper. Is cute. You need not make excuses.”

Three mechanical chuckles grated behind him as he cleared his throat twice. “Can you..keep zhis a secret?”

“Da, can do. Teeny Spy might already know though.” Whatever fluttering was going on in Medic’s stomach had turned to lead.

“Ja, probably. Anyvay, let me catch up vith you later, I need to speak vith my new assistant.”

With a nod, Heavy trodded away, and Medic closed the door behind him, turning back to his creation.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Zhe intent vas to have you build a friendly relationship vith him to help him learn not be afraid of your particular kind.”

“Vell if he’s scared I’m going to assault him, I highly doubt he’ll let me close! You didn’t even zhink zhis through! Zhat’s unlike anyzhing you’ve ever done. Und I know zhe procedure alone could have killed you, it vasn’t even tested beforehand! My genesis might have been your most irrationally carried out experiment yet!”

The tails of the organic Medic’s coat swept about until pooling on the floor. He crossed his legs at the ankles and looked at the thick tire before him. “I know. I mean, zhe research vas zhere, but now vas zhe best time to test it. Besides, zhere’s respawn.”

“Zhis seems like somezhing zhat your respawn can’t undo, according to your research.”

Medic didn’t reply.

“I’ll see vhat I can accomplish Sven Doktor. But for now, I’m going to fill zhe holes of my memory wizh learning about your work better. You should figure out vhatever is ailing both you and zhat Sniper.” 

The doctor nodded in silence, distracted and astounded by Engineer’s handiwork. It reasoned well for something lacking an emotional capacitor, yet it seemed to understand, somewhat, that they were both up to their ears in tension.

Easing himself from the floor, Medic stretched lightly before patting his hand on his new adversary's shoulder.

“Fine. I’ll be back later. If you sense any smoke zhat isn’t from a fire--”

“Yes, yes, I vill seek out zhe Spy. And, I’ll introduce myself. Now go talk to zhat ragged man.” 

Medic smiled as he was waved off by his metal clone. His new assistant would keep his office neat and tidy, and research would be conducted and jotted in a meticulous manner. It was a weight lifted off his shoulders, for sure, since he was going to need every minute devising a way to regain the trust of a patient scorned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been an extremely rough October. 
> 
> And look! Liam and Sven's little personal Medi-bot. How cute, right? 
> 
> We're half-way through .


	18. Chapter 18

He kept telling himself it was just a few more meters. Just...a few more.

Yet his feet caught him in his lies, dragging and fumbling about the chilled halls of the base he was trying to escape. 

Sniper tripped twice over air, mumbling to himself that this was no way to work, live, function. 

Perhaps it was the sedative that had his conscious spewing pessimisms which assessed his life choices as the center of his irreversible agony and despair.

He huffed twice, hoping he could make it to the doors leading out of the building and on his way to his van, but his mind and body were exhausted.

He took two more steps before crashing to the floor. His shoulder and hip bone throbbed, but he couldn't shift to ease the pain. His ear felt wet and his vision became blotchy.

These past few days have been absolute hell for Sniper ever since the doctor got involved--this he wrapped his mind around tirelessly, and he could think of nothing else except his imminent termination for being such a weak man, a damned liability.

 _So be it,_ he figured. His eyes set to close, and he came to terms with his entire predicament as a whole. If one of his teammates found him, surely they would take him right back down to the infirmary, and he’d be trapped again. A cycle of failure, and he would have to deal with it. 

It wasn’t long before he was wafting in and out of consciousness. 

Sniper tried to focus on the sounds around him.

The slight whir of the overhead fans.  
The flat buzzing of the beaming lights above.  
The nearing jingling of metal, clinking ever so soft before seizing in an abrupt fashion.

Something, someone was shaking Sniper’s arm, but he was so far gone he didn’t care who was snatching him up. 

He had failed to free himself yet again.

* * *

“’Ay.  
“’Ay man, c’mon, wake up, you gotta wake up.”

Sniper groaned as he pried his eyes open to the steel frame of the bed above him.

These weren’t his quarters, nor were they the infirmary’s. 

The walls were decorated with athletes holding bats, and an array of scantily clad women with their rears puckered out on calendars. 

Right beside him was the room’s owner, face buried in his hands and exhaling so hard it seems painful.

“Kid,” he started, realizing soon his voice was too hoarse to speak. Instead his eyes scanned his surroundings with blurred eyes before focusing in on the fidgeting boy beside him.

Upon closer inspection, he tuned into what was sulking, cussing, self-blaming for something in particular. It was a sight for Sniper to see the embodiment of arrogance depreciate himself for something out of his control.

He figured he could try to catch his attention again, but soon found out he didn’t have to.

“Hey, you’re up.”

The hunstman barely could reply with a head nod.

“Don’t--don’t move man, you nearly killed yourself when ya fell. Side of y’face is y’know...puffed up pretty bad.

“Doc put you under somethin’? Heh, dumb question, of course he did, that bastard.” Scout dragged his own chair over bedside and plopped down into it. “I should’ve went down with you Snipes, I knew something bad was gonna happen. You’d be able to walk and stuff.”

“No worries,” Sniper was able to whisper out. As if Scout being able to care about others a surprise already, the warmth that radiated from his smiles certainly was a treat for the older man.

Sniper cleared his throat and winced as the pain reintroduced itself on the side of his face.

“’ow long I been out for?”

“Huh, a couple hours. Look, I uh...you hungry? Can make you somethin’--I mean, not much but, I mean, somethin’ ya know?”

“I’m a little peckish, yeah. But i’ll get something when I get back to me van--”

“--No way dude, you can barely move! Just...stay there, I’ll make you something that you don’t really gotta chew.”

“No shonky Bonk recipes mate.” 

Scout chuckled at the concept before moving to his closet. He scanned the rack and plucked out a black tank before throwing it over top of Sniper’s face in jest. 

“This is so stupid,” Scout started again. “You could’ve been drinking with us tonight ‘n hangin’ out ‘n stuff!”

“It’s not that bad kid, really. Besides, pretty sure whatever the doc gave me’s making this pain ten times more bearable. And you gonna get this shirt off my face?”

“Heh, yeah, in a minute. Just tryna be, you know...” Scout’s voice quelled before he cleared his throat to sound confident again. “Just tryna be decent.”

Sniper roared into laughter between little bouts of coughing. “Decent? I ain’t no flower, t’hell you need to be decent for? Y’got a sense of humour kid!”

Footsteps patted back over to Sniper’s bedside before the cotton obstruction was removed from his eyes. As quickly as he blinked, Scout threw on the new shirt. 

He didn’t think it possible, but Sniper saw the brief discomfort tracing Scout’s brows and jowls. 

“You weren’t kiddin’.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to poke fun. Next time, just tell me t’close my eyes or somethin’, yeah?”

With widened eyes, Scout turned his back on Sniper and shuffled with random items in the room. “Wha--man, I was totally kidding, it’s not that serious.”

“Look me in the eye ‘n say it then.”

“I’m doin’ something Snipes, don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“Well, y’made a big enough fuss about it. S’not like you’re Heavy or Demo or anything. Y’look good, so I don’t really get what you’re so embarrassed about.”

Scout seized movement and placed his hand over his mouth. He inhaled deeply--which was loud enough for Sniper to notice--before he exhaled again and turned around to face him. 

“Y’can’t even look at me ‘n you’re red as a beet. You angry at me mate?”

“Angry--no! Not. Even. Look, I just need to go outside and get you some food or something. You’re talkin’ more than normal--that _must_ mean you’re sick.”

“Real funny. I’ll be gone when y’get back.”

“Yeah, I dunno if you forgot but I’ll catch you before you can make it back t’ that camper of yours. Seriously, you need to just move into the base.”

“Yeah, you would like that wouldn’t ya?” 

Scout just stared down at him before stepping away and heading out the door. For the life of him, Sniper couldn’t figure out why the boy was acting so weird. But until his caretaker returned, he guess he could close his eyes.

A small brush of wind reanimated the assassin once more, and the slightly open door was enough of a clue for him to have sighed.

“Oi, no games.”

 

“Hm. You heard me, but a little late. I suppose zhat is better progress zhan before, especially for zhat bashed up ear, non?”

“Wot y’want, Spook?”

“I just came to check up on you.”

“Yeah right, what do you really want--”

“I just told you. I am making sure you are okay.” Sniper sunk further under his sheets and turned away towards the wall. 

“Well, I’m fine, so you can be on your way now.”

“Zhe boy likes you, Liam.”

“Wha--well, I guess he does, seeing he saved my arse out there.”

“I will say it again,” Spy hummed. “Zhe boy likes you, and here you are injured by zhe man he witnessed kill you before. Now, you’re in ‘is room, in ‘is bed, enveloped in ‘is sheets. 

“If...somehow you do leave later on tonight to go back to zhat van of yours, he will contemplate whether or not to feign sickness himself just go to sleep in zhat exact spot, never to emerge until your scent is completely gone.” Spy’s pointer circled around the bed before reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. “And zhen, he will work harder to get you in zhat bed again, one way or anozher.”

Sniper turned back to Spy who let his head fall back to puff out some rings.

“I ‘ave witnessed him once like zhis before. You ‘ave never seen it, and so it shocks you to see zhe boy so...well-mannered. Her name was Carla, and ‘e was only wizh her to get to her brother, Victor.”

Sniper squinted his eyes and tried to sit himself up to pay closer attention to the rogue.

“Why y’tellin’ me this? Shouldn’t he tell me this himself?”

“His version will differ from mine. His will hide zhe pain he suffered, zhe betrayal, and he will tell zhe tale as if it was mostly his fault, when in fact it was zhat girl’s.

“You will find zhat the personal stories of zhose you associate wizh most are some of zhe most hurtful ones in existence.”

“That don’t answer m’question,” Sniper growled out. “Why y’tellin’ me this then?”

“Because Sniper, I value our...friendship, and I would like to see you live anozher day. I am worried about Sven, as he is going down a dark road I ‘ave seen him traverse once before. I would razher you get away while you still can.”

“He’s tryna help me get my shit back in order. I ran off to go back to m’van for some things.”

“Zhat is a horrible lie, and you should be ashamed of trying to convince me with it. It is more zhan obvious ‘e did somezhing to you and it scared you, and disturbed you, and you had to get zhe ‘ell out of zhere.”

Spy had crept towards the base of the bed and sat beside his leg. He patted the cigarette out and blew the remainder of smoke away from him before turning back and looking Sniper in the eyes. 

“I know ‘e sedated you so zhat you two could spend time togezher later on...your condition.” Spy’s face cringed at the description, straightening what was clearly discomfort off his face. “’owever I did not know about zhat Medibot conversion. Zhe intel was a wonderful gift, but we ‘ave not been on such good terms lately, and I thought zhat was suspicious.

“Sniper, you have problems wizh just zhe medical robots on zhe field?”

The Australian hesitated. Sniper knew this man enough to know that he was after something very important for him to continuously visit him like this.

He also came to the realization that whatever Spy wanted, he was stopping him from obtaining it.

He was in control.

Sniper closed his eyes and glanced back over with a smirk. “If you’re trying to get under my skin or plan something against me, or Scout, or even Medic, oi’m not helpin’ ya. Yer a Spy, so do your own dirty work.”

Although he felt good about his declaration, Sniper only received a flat face and an exasperated sigh.

“I am not out to get you. I want to ‘elp, too.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

The corners of the Frenchman’s mouth curled into a devilish grin. “Well, I can start wizh destroying zhat awful contraption. ‘ow does zhat sound for a pledge of loyalty?”

“You can do that?”

“I can.”

“Alright then. You do that for me, and then we can talk more.” 

Sniper stared at the Spy, questioning why he wasn’t moving from his spot to take care of the issue.

“Oh, Sniper, you want me to do it now? Well, zhat will require extra.”

“T’hell you want zhen?” The two turned their heads toward the door as footsteps approached rapidly. Spy’s grin never faltered as he turned to mist. “Stay away from Sven, and you have yourself a heap of metal by tomorrow night.”

The door barged open and the scent of bacon and potatoes lingered throughout the room. Scout stopped and looked around before staring at Sniper.

“Shit.”

“Wot?”

“Nah, nah, no games Frogz, get out here!” But the Spy never emerged from the shadows. Scout sighed and placed Sniper’s meal on the side table before handing pieces of it off to the marksman for consumption, starting with some bread.

“You knew he was in here?”

“I figured he was smokin’ outside the door or passed by,” he lied.

“Guess sense of smell goes first with age--”

“What’d you say, y’lil’ anklebiter?”

“Nothin’! Look, here, uh...I made you some soup stuff or whatever. I uh, I got Py to help out. Can you like, sit up?”

Scout grabbed at Sniper's shoulders as if they were expensive China, bending him into an 85 degree angle. The conditions were scary for the young man, however he couldn't get out of his head just how lucky it was that he caught their team's crack shot nearly dead outside in the halls.

And Sniper was being so nice to him, even looking at him a little different. It made all this just a little bit better. 

Scout straightened up the blanket beneath the marksman the best he could before feeling a hand on his own shoulder. He looked up at the Australian who was smiling down on him.

"Thanks Kid. 'ppreciate everything, mate. Why don't you get a little rest?"

"Well, uh, you're in my bed, so--"

"This here's a bunk--what you got on the top bunk then?"

Pictures, baseball cards, mitts, balls, and underneath that all, a very _particular_ set of erotic magazines. No, he couldn't straighten any of that up while Sniper was there, or anybody for that matter. 

Scout dropped below his bed to fetch a can of Bonk! from his stash before cracking one open. "Don't worry 'bout me. Food's aight?"

"Yeah, s'good." 

"Good."

Scout reveled in his overall success, but soon smelled another whiff of cigarette that sent him on edge again. Whatever the Spy was up to, he was gonna find out. 

"Kid?"

With an abrupt jolt, Scout grabbed his baseball bat and blitzed right on out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the grave.
> 
> Spies be spying and scoots gonna scoot.


	19. Chapter 19

On any given work day, there was a go-to arsenal arrangement that stood as the standard for fighting metal murderers. A fan ‘o war to help lay waste to the huge bots, the trusty Force-a-Nature to remind both his teammates and his enemies that human flight was very much possible, and depending on the celestial arrangement at the time, either shattered vessels from fool’s milk or empty Crit-a-Cola cans could be found littering the battlegrounds.

Scout had made it very clear that the variety of his toys were what made his job oh-so entertaining. That, and beating things up senseless. 

So if the boy was seen lurking around with an unadulterated pistol on his hip, and a six-shot scatter on his back, something was definitely amiss. 

The cries of metal against the concrete wailed on carefully, slowly through the corridors outside his room. Scout didn’t call out to Spy, didn’t demand he reveal himself. He let his bat do the talking, banging it on the floor every so often to remind his prey that this was a hunt.

He halted in the crossroads of the base. His main mission was to find the snake, but if he turned right and went down the ramp, he realized he could deliver some needed justice against that disgusting excuse of a doctor.

Going left would symbolize peace, as he’d be leaving the base to head to Sniper’s van. There, he’d break the lock and pick up things for the man he thought Sniper would need and deal with those consequences later.

Instead, he dragged his bat along and moved straight towards the lounge area before easing down onto the couch. He didn’t turn the television on, or the radio for that matter--noise was not welcome here unless it was the sounds of retribution filling the air. 

Resting the bat on his left leg, he waited, knowing he would show. 

Spy was no fool, Scout figured. He would surrender himself, as the repercussions of him not doing so would be most grave. And if that weren’t enough, Scout would deliberately administer his wrath at the worst opportune time. 

It didn’t take more than two minutes before smoke revealed a man toying with his disguise kit. Propped up next to the fireplace, Spy didn’t pay the boy any mind up until he heard the safety release on a pistol. 

“Come now, don’t you zhink you’re being a trifle bit dramatic?”

The sound of a chambered gun brought Spy’s eyes to the newly pointed weapon at his leg. He could only muster out a sigh.

“And here I zhought we were going to be buddies--”

“We are,” Scout finally huffed, waving the gun to the seat. “Sit down, right there.”

Spy complied, noticing Scout’s finger placement on his piece. He eased a little knowing the boy’s intent wasn’t to send him through respawn, but just to get some answers. 

“So, you come fully equipped to put new holes in me, and for what?”

“What’d you talk to Snipes about? No, no,” Scout rubbed the front of his face before readjusting his scowl. “The hell you doin’ in my room? Let’s start with that.”

“I saw when you saved zhe Sniper in zhe hallway, so I knew where ‘e was. And when you decided to feed him like zhe good ‘ousewife zhat you are--” A forceful nozzle kissed upon the Frenchman’s cheek, and he threw his hands in the air. 

“I’m going to need to you be able to take a joke, mon lapin.” 

“Do I look like I’m kidding around?”

“Non.” The gun was removed from Spy’s face, but it was just the right force needed to actually get the man scared. “I went inside to check-in on ‘im.”

“Doc sent you? You doin’ a favour for him? So, what, now, what, you support this shit? I should _hurt_ the _both_ of you beyond repair. See how far you get by on the field after I’m done with the two o’ ya.” The gun flew to the side of the couch and in an instant the metal pole had replaced it. “I will _beat_ you, do you understand?”

Teetering on madness, Spy tried to shift backwards but was only clutched by his tie into the boy’s grip. “Answer me! Did the Doc send ya?”

“No!”

“So, what, you friends with Sniper? Buddy-buddies on the low--”

“Liam.”

“What?”

“’is name is Liam.”

“And you’re a Spy! You better know his damn name, else you wouldn’t be a good Spy, am I right?” 

Scout shoved him back onto the couch and swung his bat on his shoulder. “You got...three minutes to tell me everything you told him in there.”

“We don’t have time for that--”

“We don’t have--the hell you mean _we_ don’t have time, I got mounds, heaps, loads a’time! It’s you who’s wastin’ yours!” A blur of silver locked on to Spy’s kneecaps before halting right before impact. “So help me Frogz, you tell me right now.”

“I told ‘im to be careful of zhe Docteur and to stay away from ‘im! I am not zhe enemy here. I’m actually grateful you picked ‘im up and stashed him in your room, since zhe Medic was supposed to visit him at his van five minutes ago--”

Scout lowered the bat and smiled at his teammate. “That so, huh? Aight Frogz. Good lookin’ out.”

“ _Merde_.” Teeny beads of sweat had accumulated under his collar and on the cusps of his hairline. “Wait, what do you plan on doing to ‘im?”

Scout re-holstered his pistol, still with the safety off before rising from the couch.

“I dunno what you see in him, man.”

“It’s complicated,” Spy ghosted as he straightened his tie. 

“Yeah, well it probably won’t be after tonight. Shit’ll be clear as day.”

The kid took his bat and set it back on the floor, dragging it as he made his way to the exit. Before he passed through the glass doors, he saluted to Spy with a big grin before barging out into the world.

“Mon dieu, zhe kid, zhe Sniper...everyone ‘ere is insane.”

* * *

“Ach, I don’t remember zhis van being out here so far. I do really hope he’s okay zhough.” Medic’s voice was the only comfort in the frigid desert night. 

“Maybe drugging him was a bad idea. Zhough zhe idea of an inundated patient does have its charms...” Medic shook his head to get such thoughts out of his head, but the reality of their meeting seemed to revolve around these perversities.

Sure, it’s only been a few days talking--or rather _treating_ the shooter, but for some reason Medic was perfectly comfortable risking his job to attempt an illicit relationship with the man--if, he so allowed it.

The route to Sniper’s van was a winding one that stood completely out of any line of sight from the base. Even with Liam’s almost automated accuracy on movement, Medic devised this path so that even he was invisible. The doctor didn’t even think the Spy knew about this route, and that made him chuckle briefly with pride.

The doctor stopped at the opening of an unused freighter tunnel would actually put him behind where he figured Sniper’s van was. From there, he would walk back just a bit and enter from the back of the truck, maybe even surprising his patient. 

Walking through was always a test of courage, as it remained pitch black for the full 28 seconds required to pass through its entirety. He patted at his breast pocket for his examination light, but opted against it, turning this passage into a sensory experience. He reveled in the concept of his eyes not being of any use and having to use the other survival gifts evolution had bestowed upon his species. Things like this were fun for the German, so as long as they weren’t permanent.

Upon exiting the tunnel, the lack of a bonfire in the distance made Medic question the severity of Sniper’s condition, and so his pace quickened to a brisk jog. 

When he approached the back of the van, there was a loud, repeated banging on the front of the car, most likely on the fender, Medic deduced.

He crept around the far side of the vehicle, inching slowly while regretting not carrying any form of weapon with him. He reached into his pocket only to find a few needles full of placebo drugs.

With the clamoring amplified, the doctor stopped finally in front of the van wide-eyed and bewildered.

“Oh, Doc, so nice o’ ya to come out here on this uh, brisk evenin’, yeah?”

“Vhat are you doing here Scout?”

“Y’know, I could ask you that same exact question! I mean, I got a _lot_ of questions, but I mean, I don’t really wanna hear anything you gotta say!” 

Medic eased his hands into his coat pocket, but Scout was surprisingly astute enough to catch on.

“No, no, ya quack, there’s nothing you got in there that can get ya out of this. Y’see, Sniper’s not inside that van--”

“--Vhere is he!”

“Don’t fuckin’ yell at me like you give a damn!” Medic’s stomach started to knot up. “You know where I found him? On the damn floor in the middle of our base, just...so far gone, ears cauliflowered ‘n everything. And where the hell were you? Downstairs laughin’ at y’handiwork, yeah?”

“Vhere is he now!”

“The fuck would I tell you for? Nah, you’re not getting away with this crap again. He is not a toy, not an experiment, not no...lab rat for you to get your creepy rocks off to old man!

“Heh,” Scout pointed back in the direction towards their base and then in an entirely direction towards bareness. “Look how _far_ you are from the base. Think respawn’ll pick you up? Maybe pieces of ya, but I dunno if you’ll make it back okay.

“Here’s how I see it. This is gonna be a two-step process. First, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you for hurting Snipes. And then, you’re gonna decide what happens to ya. Either I send you through respawn and you stay the _fuck_ away from him, or I send you back there.”

Seething with the insolent cretin before him, Medic’s eyes narrowed, itching to know where “there” exactly was.

“Oh? You don’t know? See wise guy, in that direction is actually Germany! So wherever the fuck you came from, you can go back there, only you’ll be six feet under t’ground! So, while I get to work, you figure out where you wanna be, mmkay?”

Medic adjusted his glasses and tugged on his left glove before looking back up at Scout.

 

“Vell, you certainly have made a fool out of yourself here zhis evening.”

“T’hell you just say to me--”

“Shut up.” Scout clammed up reflexively but raised his bat and lunged at the doctor soon after.  
It would have been a clean hit, had Medic not extended his foot to trip him and then palmed the middle of his exposed chest.

The wind was knocked clean from Scout’s lungs, bat disowned and rolling backwards towards Medic’s feet. He placed his right foot on top of the metal pole before looking down at the floored boy.

“Ssh, ssh, come now _mein Kind_ ,” Medic cooed as he watched him lap up air. “I know you’re trying to protect your teammate, but I can’t help but wonder if you zhink he is your responsibility.

“You see,” A knee had planted itself directly on the boy’s spine, causing him to yelp and pinning him to the ground. The more he squirmed, the more Scout’s face winced in agony. “I actually _do_ care about our Sniper. Very much so, more zhan anybody else on zhis team for zhat matter. Especially you.” Bones cracking out of place sounded like music to the doctor’s ears as he twisted the youth’s arm.

“However, I am a forgiving individual, or...I at least like to zhink so. So let’s revise zhese terms, yes? I zhink zhere are two places you can go instead.” Medic used his free arm to point back towards the base and then over towards the mothership that housed the robotic onslaught. 

“You can run back to zhe base, und be a good little boy and take care of Sniper for zhe night, since zhat brings you zhe most comfort. In zhe morning, you can go back to doing vhatever you do for zhis team but stay out of my way.

“Or, I can escort you to your execution. After all, if you zhink my experiments are sick, vait until you see vhat Greymann’s got cooking up in zhat tin can on zhe hill over zhere.”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, zhat was vhat I feared. Vell, as I said, I am a forgiving individual.” Medic lifted up off the Scout, who struggled to get back to his feet with a newly mangled arm.

“It’s far too chilly for zhis. Take care of zhe Sniper for me, vill you? Ozherwise, i’ll be less lenient.” 

And just like that, Medic’s books clicked on the pavement back towards the base, with Scout just watching in awe. 

“You fuckin’ jerk!” 

Medic stopped and spun on his heels to address the boy, but all he saw was a raised gun before his eyes dilated.

Quick work, right through the brows and Medic had dropped to the ground, blood decorating the natural earth. 

Scout exhaled twice before straightening his posture and re-holstering his gun. He picked up his bat and walked over to the body to assess the damage. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, excited about his win. 

“Yeah, Fuck you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how you gonna teamkill the teamkiller 
> 
> scoot, bye w'cho hypocritical ass
> 
> -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
> 
> Aww, all you cutie pies leaving me words of encouragement and praise, thank you.


	20. Chapter 20

Sniper woke shivering alone in bed, Scout nowhere to be found.

And that pop, that crackle which woke him in the night. 

He felt off about the whole thing. Something wasn’t right. 

Sniper wanted to leap from bed to investigate, but weary muscles resisted.

He would have to take this slow, one step at a time. He cursed his body for its inability to keep up with the urgency at hand.

After swinging both legs over and planting his feet firmly on the ground, he scanned the boy’s room for anything that served as a clue to what had happened. When he came up empty in his search, he decided to leave out and find answers.

He figured shuffling along towards the respawn room would be his best bet. It wasn’t a matter of what happened or what was going on; no, Sniper knew somebody got clipped, and it was only a matter of time before the slain would reappear. 

Last he remembered, the kid was after their Spy for reasons unknown. It only made sense he would fabricate in the revival chamber.

How astonished was he to find a well-suited man sprinting at him from the opposite direction. 

 

“Spy?”

“You,” he panted, completely out of breath, “you heard zhat too?”

The two stared at one another before looking through the glass doors. 

“Maybe it was someone else--”

“No one else ‘as a gun like what we just ‘eard. Shotguns are louder, bigger--everyone would have heard zhat in zhe base and came scrambling out just like we did. Half of zhe team uses shotguns--zhat was no shotgun.”

Their glares only intensified, with Spy’s eyes particularly becoming glossy by the second. “I told ‘im zhat zhe doctor was on ‘is way to see you at your van.”

The Sniper’s face paled as he processed just what Spy had done. 

“Well why in the bloody hell--”

“He had a gun to my head.”

Sniper could only shake his head with vigor in disbelief. “So you figure going through respawn once wasn’t enough of a sacrifice to save the Doc? M’van’s outside of pickup range!”

Spy looked fit to burst with rage, jawline clenched and voice taking a raspy turn. “Non,” was all he could muster before he stepped back away from the doors. “Stay...stay here. I ‘ave to go find zhe Docteur.” 

“Oi’m comin’ with---”

“Absolutely not, you are still under zhe effects of zhat drug. You would only get in zhe way.”

“If the kid’s out there, then oi’m gonna beat some sense inta him proper--”

“You can barely walk, let alone pick up your hands to strike someone!” Spy’s voice had bellowed through the base’s halls. The rogue clenched his fists before pinching his eye ducts. “I will go. Stay here, and just wait by the spawn.”

“And wot if he don’t show up then? What, we go on a witch hunt for the boy? He got money like the rest o’ us, he could be anywhere within the next hour!”

“Get a hold of yourself, he is traceable, and he is not _that_ bright! He will linger around and revel in his hollow win. You need to be supportive and be here if Sven returns!”

 

Sniper didn’t like this idea one bit. Riddled with tension and confusion, watching the Spy walk away was symbolic of saying goodbye to their dear friend. The thought made him want to throw up what Scout had prepared for him earlier.

His knees stood even weaker than before, body ready to fall over. He mustered up his remaining strength to move a few paces more to the revival room. The sliding doors were so inviting, walls pure as the plume on Sven’s pigeons. He moved inside and threw himself against the wall, letting gravity ease him down.

The more he pondered on what happened, the more his head spun. 

This was too much stress for a man his age. And yet, at what age can one comfortably bear to lose a loved one, Sniper wondered.

 

Boots were rapidly approaching, but they weren’t the distinctive clicking he had grown use the past few days. He would’ve ignored everything and forced himself to sleep had there not been banging from the outside.

He glanced up from the floor to find Demo and Heavy posted outside the respawn room. The door finally opened up and they marched in.

“Lad, ye alright? We heard shots! Was that you who just went through?”  
“N-nah,” he managed. The two standing men turned to look at each other before back down at Sniper.

“Who then?” 

“Spy thinks the kid shot Medic. And that was almost a half-hour ago, he should’ve come back by now, even if he was a little out of pickup range.” The first sob was suppressed expertly as a hiccup, but eventually Sniper started to unravel.

“He could be dead! Th’ man that treats our wounds ‘n...gave us our hearts. He’s the only person that can fix my sickness and he could be dead all ‘cause of a stupid fear!”

 

Demo didn’t understand much of what Sniper was going on about, but Heavy deduced the marksman felt guilty for everything that’s happened thus far. He dipped down and cupped Sniper’s shoulder, gripping it firmly to gain the attention of the distraught.

“Do not worry. We’ll find leetle coward Scout and make him pay--”

“Oi don’t care about the kid! Hell.” He burrowed his head back into his arms.

“Don’t...well, try not t’fret. Doc’ll be right’ere soon.” Heavy glared at Demo, squinting in response to his unconvincing tone before refocusing his attention. “Better go and wake up Engi though, maybe he can help. Any word from the old woman yet?”

Sniper didn’t say anything and Demo sighed.

“I’ll be just a min’.”

 

When Demo was gone, Heavy rose up and looked outward. He never thought his friend would be killed by a member of their own team under any circumstance. Medic in the past darkly jested about being murdered in cold blood for being himself, and then Heavy just dismissed the doctor as an old, pessimistic man. 

The forecasting was much too much for the Heavy, and he soon found himself in solemn thought.

 

“All ‘cause of a stupid phobia,” Sniper whispered. It was then Heavy’s eyes exploded with hope.

“Sniper, I have idea. Will be right back.” Sniper lifted his furrowed face, shocked at how fast he fled the room.

 

Moments later, the infamous grating and churning of gears made its way towards the respawn room, along with shaking ground. It all stopped right before reaching the door, and Heavy, Demo, Engineer and the Medibot all move into the spawn together.

Sniper didn’t pay them much mind, but they were whispering about him, the Spy, the Scout, and the odd chance that Medic wouldn’t return.

 

“Helen’ll kill that boy on the spot, no question.” Engi scratched at his neck and glanced at the downed Sniper. “Then they’ll get a replacement Doc, but he ain’t gonna be as skilled as the one we have now, that’s for sure.” 

The Texan pawed at his utility belt before looking back up at everybody. He paid particular attention to the metal ally, grinning just a bit. “Nice to see you up and running there—“

“Jürgen. My name is Jürgen now.”

“Well i’ll be,” Engi continued. “Alright then partn’r, we need to work together to figure out some things. I might need some of Medic’s cerebral DNA on one of your data slides. Not sure you’ll get it back though.”

“Maybe I should duplicate it zhen?”

 

“How long will that take?” Heavy’s query surprised both beings of science, leaving Jürgen scraping at its chin once more.

 

“Hm, if you have a hefty power source I can plug into, I can do it in 30 minutes for a 100% DNA copy, but if you need it right now--”

“That’s damn too long. I put excellent processors in you, I know it should be done a bit quicker. It’s already been, what, almost an hour? He don’t got much time left. ”

“Zhat’s for 100%. I can give you 80% in 45 seconds if zhat’s better, but I can’t filter out what I’d lose exactly--”

“Just do it. Make your copy, and give me the original. I’ll bend a few rules with this here respawn room and we might still have a chance of bringing him back to life.”

 

The automaton’s eyes dimmed at the goggled-man before sighing. Fully aware this might alter the way he operates and actually seize him to function, it reached behind its neck for a few small buttons.

“Don’t worry fella. Whatever happens, Doc and I ‘ll patch you up after this is all sorted out.”

“You don’t even know if zhis vill work. Zhen if it doesn’t, you lose zhe two most important chances to bring him back. I might not bleed blood, but I most certainly understand zhe concept of death. It’ll be like killing zhe man twice, und you all know zhat.”

 

It was tense as a few more inputs were manipulated on the robot’s chassis. When he closed his eyes and readied himself to press the final knob that would start the cloning, the silence was broken by the throaty mumblings of a certain Sniper.

 

“You’ll be alright,” was all he could muster. Heavy and Engi stared down at the balled up man with mouths agape. “Sven’ll make it back. You all are the brightest mind this planet’s got t’offer. And right now, you’re the only person who can bring him back.

“So just do us a solid and save ‘im so I can get some bloody rest.”

 

Jürgen’s eyes lit back up. Never was he recognized as a person. The thought overwhelmed him, making his mind run loops trying to process and analyze and predict, but all failing miserably. 

“Zhank you, Liam.”

“Sniper, mate. Oi still hate your existence.”

The robot smiled as best as it could before closing his eyes once more and pressing the button on the back of its neck, initiating the procedure.

 

43.3 seconds later, a small glass slide emerged from the back of the AI’s neck. Engineer moved around and gently removed the tile before the mechanical entity shut down abruptly. Heavy lifted it up to start dragging it outside of respawn, and Demo decided he would assist the tank with the task.

“Hey Slim. Gonna need you to clear out now.”

“Oi can’t stay in here?” His voice was cracked and lilted, bottom lip quivering from stress.

“Well, y’could, but I’m sure you want this to go as smoothly as possible. Why don’t you go rest up a bit out in the rec area while I work on this. I only got but,” Engineer moved to look at his wrist watch before letting out a big huff, “Longest someone’s ever lived away from respawn was two hours and fifty-eight minutes. We’re pushing it now, for sure.”

“Yeah, alright. Don’t waste your time talking to me then.” 

“Heavy!” Engi called out. When the bigger man was summoned he automatically knew what was being requested of him. Without a word, he lifted Sniper from his spot and carried him out.

“W-wait a minute! I can get up m’self! Oi ain’t n’ damsel in distress, I’m a dinkum professional killer!”

“Lettle man is weak. I will put you down when we get outside. Until then, do not fight me.”  
Sniper complied, but just barely, flailing gangly legs about as he was toted about.

 

“Alright men. E’rybody out,” Engineer hummed. “Now, let’s just see if we can bring Medic back t'life.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Demo, what time is it?” 

“I ha’ent the slightest clue. All I know is we’re cuttin’ it a wee bit close.”

Engineer took a scrape of microscopic matter from Jürgen’s slide and set it aside. For the past twenty minutes, Demo and Engineer had been throwing their heads together the best they could to mod the respawn room’s calibrations and augment the equipment. Between the new amplified antennae and a hyper re-generator fueled none other by one of Medic’s non-sanctioned formulas, there was hope he could be brought back from the dead.

Heavy had been doing an ample amount of running around, waking and informing the missing teammates of Medic in limbo. Pyro showed little emotion however did everything he could to assist. Soldier took a whole different turn, loading rockets into his launcher as soon as the suspect’s name was uttered. Heavy most certainly tried to stop him from hunting the kid as well, but two jumps later and he blasted through the roof and off the base.

 

Through all this, Sniper rested his head on the side of the couch and allowed himself to become entranced by the fireplace’s flames. He didn’t really move, and didn’t make much of an effort to speak when spoken too. His yawns brought about concern, as they frequented every 30 seconds or so--a clear sign he wasn’t even trying to breathe.

From the sidelines came a shadow cast over Sniper’s body. When unresponsive to the presence, it merely sat next to him, huffing through the small vent of a mouth.

“Yrr nrr, Ernngee’s grnnr brrng Mrddc brrk.” _(You know, Engi’s gonna bring Medic back.)_

Sniper didn’t look away, but only yawned again.

“W’rtrvrr Scrrt t’rd yrr ab’t Mrddc,” he stopped himself and looked at what soothed him the most. “Rt drrdn’t hrrp’n lrrk h’ srrd.” _(Whatever Scout told you about Medic, it didn’t happen like he said.)_  
Sniper looked away from the dying embers and stared at the black mask before him. 

“Wot...really happened then?”

 

Pyro turned around to see if anybody else was near before scooting extra close to Sniper. The huntsman was ready to shove him aside when he realized the arson was protecting himself as he eased his mask slightly above his mouth. Sniper was in awe; Pyro’s skin was a letdown, as it was completely different than the rumours suggested. No dramatic burn marks, no overbearing scars. And his teeth were far more aligned than half the team members, let alone well-cared for. The small glimpse was enough for the man to reassess his entire profile for the firebug. 

“It’s nice to be free once in a while,” he whispered, giggling here and there. “I’m use to the mask, and you guys are too, but sometimes you all miss what I’m saying or give up when I say something new, and that’s gotten us killed many’a’times.

“Anyway, Medic isn’t a bad guy. No, I don’t know what Scout told you, but he made up this elaborate story based on an experiment I consented on Medic conducting.”

“S’you were havin’ health problems too or somethin’?”

“No, no, heh. No, I wanted to channel fire through my hands like in the comic books, so I told Doc and he said he’d look into it.”

Sniper’s eyes squinted and Pyro shook his head. “Seriously. And things were going well for a while too...well, sort of.

“I can’t really get into the details, but basically it involved a lotta gasoline, and sending the bulk of my body heat to the palms of my hands.” Pyro’s spirit fingers grabbed Sniper’s attention, dancing about in delight as he reminisced.

“Only problem was I always needed to coat my hands in fuel. Now, for experimenting purposes, I guess that was fine, but during battles, it made me a huge target, especially by the other bots with flamethrowers and the spies. I dunno why, but Graymann programmed them to smoke actual cigarettes. Spy said that was a waste of tobacco!”

Sniper mentally agreed.

“So anyway, we had to cut the project short. I mean, there were other reasons too, like me almost permanently dying, but for the most part the gas lathering drew the line for me. Required me to be too careful with my own flamer, and that’s not even remotely fun.”

“So why don’t you like seeing the Medic then? Or is that a story as well?”

Pyro flashed a few teeth before pulling his mask back down.  
“Thrrts frr r’nrrther drr.” _(That’s for another day.)_

The firebug patted Sniper’s shoulders before leaning on them to stand back up. He figured he’d trot on over to Engi to check on the overall progression of things.

 

The thought of there being no bad blood between the flame enthusiast and the team’s practitioner only enhanced the slew of guilt, relief, and fear Sniper had been harboring. He should have trusted him more, or at least tried to hear him out. At the same time, he know knew that the Medic really wasn’t as evil as they say--at least to him--and whatever the doctor was doing was in good faith. 

He wanted to just pull Sven aside and apologize sincerely for being such a cunt. But now, he gnawed on the inside of his mouth at the possibility of not ever being able to say sorry to his friend.

The logs that were once engulfed by flames hid little orange flecks of heat buried beneath heaps of ash. The sight did nothing but depress Sniper further. He figured the only way to cope would be a stiff drink. 

Demo would most certainly have something for the occasion.

 

* * *

 

Into town, into the next town, and back to Boston. 

These are the three places Spy had figured the boy would go if his actions finally caught up to him.  
He was banking on the boy’s regret and reflection on his youth. If there was no remorse, the boy literally could have gone anywhere with no leads whatsoever. 

Zipping past Sniper’s van on the side of the road, the remnants of blood flashed by him. He felt sick to his stomach, and rightly so--had he not sent the man he cared most for to an untimely death, he actually might have been able to make things up with him.

Of course, Spy shook that notion out of his head. They were both too stubborn to admit something was their fault.

But in this particular case, he planned to sincerely apologize for this entire mishap. 

It most certainly might not be enough, but it still needed to be done. 

 

The main road from the base led up onto a three-laned highway that hadn’t a soul on it. He was tempted to strip his mask and let the wind beat upon his face lovingly, however he opted against the chance that someone would spot him. 

After miles of tranquil driving, Spy looked into his rear view mirror on instinct and nearly swerved the car off the road during a double take.

Behind him were explosions and screams from the couple of cars that were present behind him. The road was littered with small craters and simple pot holes, and it wasn’t until Spy eased off the gas a bit did he realize that was a poor idea.

“You ‘ave got to be kidding me. What the hell--” Spy screeched as the sounds of bombs neared his car. Only a few seconds later, a tremendously large thud landed on the roof, impact nearly crushing his head. The rogue cussed at the fresh dent and then swore some more at the obvious culprit. 

By now, the car had come to a complete stop, and Spy slapped his own face in disgust.

 

“Frenchie, I have arrived!”

“For fuck’s sake Soldier, why must you destroy everyzhing you touch?”

Steel-toed boots reacquainted themselves with the asphalt, and he tugged on the passenger’s side of the car to let himself in.

“I have hopped many miles to get this far. And then I saw your ride!”

“I’m surprised you actually remembered what it looked like,” Spy mumbled, “Whatever’s left of it now, zhat is.”

“This is a _girly_ vehicle fit for females. Invest a new one that is strong and reliable like America!”

Spy pinched at his ducts and took out a smoke. 

 

“Why are you here, Soldier? In my car, in my face.”

“Heavy told me about what happened to our Medic. Said it was the Scout. There will be no team-killers on my watch, and so I’m going to kill that sunuvabitch if it’s the last thing I do!”

“Heavy? So, what, everybody knows now?”

“Affirmative! Engineer, Demo, and their pet robot are working on getting the respawn to revive Medic.”

“And what about zhe Sniper and Pyro?”

“What about them?”

Spy dragged and puffed before restarting the ignition. “Nevermind, don’t worry about zhat.”

“Okay--”

“But that still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

Soldier scratched beneath his helmet before loading his rocket launcher into the back of Spy’s car. “Scout must pay for treason against the team! Mutiny! Subordination!”

 _I didn’t think you knew words beyond four syllables_ , Spy thought. 

“I get it, Soldier. So, what, you figured you’d hop around until you locate him?”

“Well, that was the original plan,” he fessed, slamming the rear car door, “but Engineer had figured you went looking for the boy, so I thought it’d be best if I caught you or the kid!”

“Such...a thorough plan.”

“I agree entirely! It worked out without faults!”

“Well, get in zhe car. We are wasting time with zhis idle chit-chat when we could be finding the boy.”

“Do not fret, whether we find him or not, he will be back on our base within three days!”

 

Spy hesitated turning the key. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I went on a trip once across the great states of this country.” Soldier extended his left hand, clenching it into a fist before shaking it in glory. 

“I really don’t wish to hear zhis--”

“--Only problem was I was not on paid vacation time. I left no notes, no trail, and Miss Pauling found me two days later in an underground bunker and brought me back. Same went for Demo when he went home to see his mother without telling anybody.”

“Is zhat so,” was all he could muster. This was information a man of his position should know, yet it was news to him. More upset with himself than anybody else, he powered up the vehicle and signaled his associate to get in the front.

“Well, zhat does not mean we cannot search for the night. Besides, I’m not ready to go back to zhe base just yet.”

“Alright then, let’s move out! We find him, and I shove a rocket so far up his ass—"

“Soldier, we ‘ave to bring him back to zhe base first. Ozherwise, we ‘ave done zhe exact same thing he just did to our Medic.”

 

He sat in silence as they drove along the highway once more before exploding in retort. “I get it! We will bring him back in the trunk and then when we get back I will shove three rockets so far up his ass—"

Spy couldn’t help snorting at his ally’s all-too-perfect plan and unwavering resolve. “Zhat sounds fine, mon ami. Let’s just catch him first zhen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...and then, the wind placed its cock onto Spy's face--"
> 
> "we're done here"
> 
> -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
> 
> Another split chapter.  
> Dialogue takes up a lotta space.  
> Sometimes I think I should cut down, but it's quite entertaining.  
> I also feel conversations can reveal more than a block of description sometimes.  
> I'unno, still figuring things out.


	22. Chapter 22

“Alright. It’s done. Just gotta flick this here switch ‘n pray for the best.”

“Ye think it’ll work?”

“S’gonna have to. Ain’t really got no other option.”

Engineer, Demo, and Heavy stared at one another outside the respawn room at their external contraption, all equally scared this invention wasn’t going to work. The machine itself was a marvel to behold for just a small metal box. Inside was a molecular atomizer that focused specifically on Medic’s DNA thanks to the sample Jürgen had provided earlier. Amplified by a hyper-accelerated Medi-gun formula ten times as potent as what the Quick-Fix uses, paired with an Australium-plated dish to boost the pick-up range on the respawn radius, it seemed like the perfect solution. However there was nothing to be fixed or done about the time lost, and that was the biggest factor regarding the initiative’s success.

 

“Well, why’re we staring at each other like a bunch of idiots! ‘ere, gimme that!” Demo snatched the power controls and flicked them on. The machine ran relatively silent, and everyone excluding Sniper stared into the glass doors awaiting something, someone.

The waiting carried on for hours before Engineer finally pulled away. “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

“Wha—but he’s not back yet!” Demo protested. “We can’t just leave ‘im!”

“We don’t even know if he’s comin’ back first off! And we got a shift in the mornin’! Look, I care about bringing the Doc back, but me staying up unrested ain’t gonna fix a damn thing.”

“He is right. I will sleep too,” Heavy conceded. “Doctor would be upset anyway if we weren’t in top form.”

“We’re _always_ in top form!”

“Speak for yourself, I’m turnin’ in.”

 

The two men headed off to their quarters, with Pyro soon following after them. Demo lingered around and paced from the windows to the respawn room, back to the front door, and finally landed himself in front of the fireplace where Sniper had not moved the entire night.

 

“’ey.”

Sniper didn’t reply.

“Don’t ye worry. I’ll keep watch. I dunno why they went to sleep—I’m tired too!”

“S’get some rest. Oi don’t sleep too easy these days.”

“Ye sure lad? This dun feel too right.”

“Yeah,” Sniper turned towards Demo. He cracked a loose smile and shoved at his friend’s shoulder. “G’on and get some rest. If…Doc don’t come back in the mornin’, we’ll be down a Medic, and Heavy don’t do so well without the help. That means you’ll be carryin’ us.”

“Oh, ye got a good point lad. Didn’ even think o’ that. Okay then, I’ll check in on ye first thing in the morning!” Staggering from permanent impairment, Demo tilted an invisible hat before sauntering back to his room.

 

With everybody now gone, Sniper moved from the sidelines to stare into the hollow space that promised resurgence.

He checked around to see if there were any faces on the walls, but as he found lately, matters regarding the Medic escaped the conventions of time completely.  
And so, Sniper smiled and sat outside the respawn room.

He stretched out in a comfortable fashion on the cold floor, preparing himself to dream of what he wanted to think about rather than the current pains that ailed him. 

“Oi’ll wait, Nurse. Oi ain’t goin’ nowhere. You still got work ta do,” Sniper mumbled before finally dozing off.

* * *

“Sniper. Sniper, I need you to get up.”

The Australian shuddered under the touch upon his arm. He pried one eye open, although he couldn’t see too much with his glasses askew. 

“Argh, wot the hell d’you…Oh, Ms. Pauling. Oi’m sorry, let me just—“

“It’s fine, don’t worry, you can stay on the ground. I just need your attention for a brief moment.” 

Sniper nodded and focused on the soft yet stern voice asking about his health. 

“The other team members stated that you might need to take a break, so I’m here to inspect that.”

“Wh—that’s the only reason you’re here?” He caught his voice escalating before settling back down.

“Of course not. Medic’s absence has been noted. I came down to ask about that, but nobody seems to know anything. At least, those of you that are still actually here. Do you know where everybody is?”

“Spy and Soldier went to go find the kid,” was all Sniper could say before getting up and turning away from his adviser.

“Sniper, if you know more about this—”

“Scout killed Medic outside of respawn. Near m’van.”

Ms. Pauling’s eyes widened and her small mouth gaped open. “What? Sniper, that’s a bold accusation!”

“It was him! He and Medic have been on bad terms lately, and Scout took him by surprise I suppose.”

“Hm. It’s not like him to walk without a weapon. And so respawn hasn’t picked him up yet?”

“That machine runnin’ behind you there's working on it.”

“Engineer built this then? Using his own personal stash of Australium…that’s just like him.

“Alright Sniper, when you see the others, tell them that any fighting today has been suspended. We’ll just hire some disposable mercenaries if Graymann somehow finds out about this…chances are he’ll definitely strike if he does.”

“Oi can’t do that, I have a job t’ perform—”

“Sniper, the team can’t function without a Medic, and you’re clearly distressed. I don’t know if you and the doctor were as close as him and Spy, because they were thick as thieves. If that’s the case, then we’ll do everything in our power to capture Scout and bring him back here.”

Sniper fixed his hair and straightened his hat before groaning. “Soldier said you’d find him in no less than three days.”

“Ha, of course _he_ did. Normally the satellites can find anybody in 24 hours. We then send out envoys and bring whoever we're looking for back here. So, yes, three days is what we try to keep it to.”

Sniper glanced back over to the empty room, still angered at all that has happened. Ms. Pauling was explaining the process further, but his attention was focused on the absence of metal on the couch nearby.

 

“Say, Ms. Pauling,” he interrupted.

“Hm?” 

“You seen a robot on that couch over there?”

“Oh, you mean Jürgen?”

“You—wait, that thing is functioning again? It introduce itself t’ya?”

“Oh, no, not as of yet. I spoke to Engineer earlier and even then he was nowhere near finished with repairs. Something about its memory and how it shut itself down. I wasn’t entirely too concerned.”

“Oi need to talk to Engineer then. Is there anything else you needed help with?”

“No Sniper, everything else is fine. Engineer has advised me that the augmented respawn machine needs time to run, however I’m fairly certain the Administrator won’t wait as long as you all would like. Energy costs and all.”

“Well can’t we get a replacement until this works out?” Sniper pointed at the respawn room. “Hell, that robot’s practically Medic, he can take over for a bit, right?”

“Hm. It isn’t a bad idea, however it does pose a security risk. We still need a blooded practitioner on the team for when you’re on the field. Relying on him alone would amount to failure. Let an enemy Spy sap him and the entire team’s efforts are screwed.

“Still, for around the base and conducting medical tasks, I don’t see why not. Between you, me, and Engineer, I will allow it, but I’ll still have to ask Helen if it’s alright.”

Sniper wasn’t too excited for this verdict, however he found keeping the rolling menace around might somehow cosmically bring the real Medic back.

“Alright. Thanks.” Sniper started towards Engineer’s workshop, curious about the condition of the bot. 

“No problem. And Sniper?

“Medic might be gone for good. However I have a good feeling that between Engineer’s ingenuity and the team’s resilience, the good doctor will return.”

With nothing to say, he waved off the woman and went on to talk to the team’s tinkerer.

* * *

“Engi.”

“Oh, hey Stretch. Caught me just in time. I’m jus’ about ready to flick this here switch and see what’s up with Jürgen. Although, to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, if there’s anything wrong with him at all.” 

Sniper scowled at the inoperable bot. Someone—be it Engineer or another teammate—Pyro, most likely—took the time to pose the AI to make it seem like it was merely asleep. To say it didn’t irk Sniper would be a grand lie.

“Well ‘e said whatever he did might be bad for ‘im. Might not even be a good idea to power him on.”

“Probably not, but there’s only one way to find out.” 

Sniper crossed his arms and stood closer towards the door as power juiced through the machine. It seemed to boot up just fine, and moments later its eyes began to glow, but not once did it utter a single word.

“Hm, maybe that’s what got lost.”

“Wot?”

“His speech and speech recognition files. And that’s no help to us if he can’t understand a thing we say—“

“I can understand you and Sniper perfectly fine.” 

Engineer perked up and caught his helmet before it fell off his head entirely. 

“Well lookie there. Don’t scare us like that partn’r, was worried I couldn’t help you out. Why don’t you go on and do a system’s check.”

Jürgen didn’t reply, but the whirring of some internal parts indicated he was carrying out the request. 

Meanwhile, Sniper felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise when it turned to stare at him twice during the procedure.

It was a predatory glare Sniper knew all too well, and sweat started to form from his brow.

“What’s zhe matter, Sniper? You look tense.”

“Ain’t you supposed to be doin’ somethin’?”

“Yes, looking after you, und finishing up zhe Medigun research. After all, zhat’s what Sven vanted me to do.”

“Oi don’t need _you_ looking after me, that’s the Doctor’s job—”

“Zhe doctor’s currently dead.”

Engineer pulled away from fiddling with workbench tools to look behind him. 

“W-wait just a minute now, we don’t know if he’s gone for good yet,” the Texan protested. He watched his teammate carefully, fully aware of Sniper's rising rage.

“Ve do. He’s dead at zhe moment, but he’s around. Zhis would have been so much easier had you brought back the body to respawn.”

A great whack echoed through the room. “Of course!” He smacked himself across the forehead, before clutching his chin in thought. “Dagnabbit, I can’t believe that  
completely escaped me. I must be getting old. So if the body’s still on the side of the road where Doc got murdered, then there’s a chance he’ll respawn quicker.” 

“Exactly. Only zhere’s an obvious problem.”

Sniper watched as Engineer squinted his eyes at Jürgen trying to figure out the issue. 

“Aw hell. Well, shit,” he finally whispered.

“Wot?”

“The doc bot here’s actually right. If Medic was near your van, he should’ve respawned by now, especially with the machine. It hadn’t dawned on me, but the reason he ain’t respawning quick is because his body’s been moved farther away from base.”

“So get Paulin’ on the phone! She said they’re gonna find the kid soon, so—”

“It’s not that easy, Sniper. So Pauling and the Administrator get the boy back. But if he dumped the body in a lake or something, it will be too late to find him.”

“Vell, zhat’s not entirely true either.” The bot interrupted them once more, this time hopping down from the table and bouncing on his wheel for balance. “Engineer, do you zhink ve can work out legs in zhe future? I vant to be a real boy.”

“Possibly, but now ain’t the time—”

“Good. Sniper, take me to your van.”

“Wot? No, absolutely not.” Sniper looks set to punch the robot right in its galvanized jaw.

“Fine, zhen I’ll go by myself. Engineer I’m going to also work towards finding zhe Medic’s body. I vill be investigating zhat area for zhe remainder of zhe day.”

“Well alright. Don’t gotta tell me, you’re a mann of your own autonomy. Besides, I’m gonna go talk to Helen about some respawn upgrades, ‘cause after all of this respawn range business, maybe she’ll take my requests a bit more seriously. So if ya’ll’ll excuse me.” Engineer presented his hand in a sweeping motion towards the exit to his quarters. 

Jürgen blitzed out, wasting little time to make his way toward's the crime scene. Sniper still wasn't convinced it could do anything but get in the way, and as much as he didn't want it near his van, he figured giving it a head start would be beneficial to him. On his way out, Engineer clasped his shoulder and smiled.

"Doc and I made that bot to help you, Sniper. Let it try to do it's job."

He wanted to tell the shorter man he didn't ask for it, or better yet what a poor idea it was to begin with. But in retrospect, the anger he felt towards the abomination was a more progressive emotion than sheer, unabated fear. A revelation washed upon Sniper leaving him wondering if he should complain less, and he proceeded to wage an internal war with himself over the matter.

"if it tries anything shonky, don't get mad your pretty lil' toy breaks," was all he could grunt in protest.

"Well if you're that worried, why don't you go on and help him? Y'can keep tabs on him like you want that way."

"S'ppose I can," Sniper realized. He touched upon the stubble on his chin and walked out of the Texan's workshop, ready to stalk the metal doppelganger as best and inconspicuously as he could.

After all, being observant was Sniper's forte. Today, he'd find out the true nature of the doctor's contraption once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap's a little long, but I had to get important story bits written out.   
> Patience will be rewarded next chapter ;).


	23. Chapter 23

“Oh, whoops--”

Jürgen glanced down at his thick tire, now coated in a crimson powdery residue. “Zhis seems to be zhe doctor’s blood.” The desert sun had cooked what spilled the night before, and the Medibot made sure to tread sand and other natural debris onto the spot.

“Wot the hell, don’t step on the crime scene!”

“Vell, if ve’re to be precise, I’m more so _rolling_ zhrough zhe evidence, given my current attachments.” 

"Y'keep it up, and that rubber roller of yours is gonna meet Sharpy. Now go on and move."

 

Sniper let the squeaking whine of Medic’s contraption fade out of focus as the pavement warranted his attention. Squatting down and surveying the scene seemed like the best way to figure out just exactly what happened to the missing body. 

“Look ‘ere,” he pointed, trailing his finger up to where the blood markings stopped. “No drag marks. No foot prints. Oi didn’t think the kid was strong enough to lift another man, let alone the Doc.” He rose up from the spot of Medic’s initial demise only to further inspect the dried droplets of blood that stopped at the border between asphalt and dirt. 

“And t’spacing between the blood…he was moving fast, but it definitely wasn’t easy for him. Made sure to drag his feet once he got into the dirt. Kid’s not entirely daft.”

“You got all zhat from a pile of stale blood?”

 

Sniper cut his eyes over at the AI, determining whether he should ignore it or not. For something that’s supposed to be Medic’s clone, the Australian deduced its intelligence as insulting to its original owner. 

“Ain’t no different than tracking something in the Bush.”

“Zhat’s _very_ impressive Sniper.”

“You being sarcastic? I’ll jab your neck, nick your head clean off.” The octave increase was too soft, too odd to belong to something so cold. “And stop talkin’ like that. Somethin’ wrong with you?”

Jürgen’s eyes flickered before dimming down again. “No, I’m fine.” He was whining, and it agitated Sniper even more. “I’ll keep my interests to myself since it’s such an issue.”

“Yeah. You best do that.” 

"Although it doesn’t change the fact zhat I still find your skill set so interesting. If I paid you to teach me how to live in zhe wilderness—”

“No, y’wanka, oi’ll be damned.”

“And if zhis vas Sven’s request?”

“Wot?”

“If I vas Sven, and he asked zhis of you, vell?”

 

A preposterous hypothetical, Sniper thought. Could the Doc even use a flint? Skin game? Hell, find north if need be? He shook his head at the thought of Sven’s lack of self-sufficiency and carried on looking back at his bent front fender.

 

“Vait, are you saying no zhen?”

“Wot?”

“You shook your head.”

“Well, yeah. Oi wouldn’t charge him for that,” he admitted. “There are certain thing everybody should know, especially a quack like him.”

“Mm, you’re quite kind vhen it comes to zhe doctor. Zhis is good.”

“Will y’just keep quiet for a moment?” Sniper dropped down onto his stomach to survey the ground beneath his van.

“I could, but zhen you vouldn’t hear about zhis cool little memory I have of Sven vhen he vas younger.”

Sniper kept searching, but it was more than obvious Jürgen had stolen his complete attention.

“It’s a bit hazy, as are all Sven’s memories. Vell, not really. Zhey’re hard copied into my mind. Anyvay, Sven had run avay from home due to some family issues, and basically he vas sustaining himself on fruits and nuts for almost a month in some woods not too far off from his residence. 

“Apparently, his parents actually gave up looking for him at a certain point, but zhen decided to re-initiate zhe search—most likely because it vould have looked terrible if zhey hadn’t put in some effort to find zheir child.”

“I almost wanna believe your cliché little story, but please—”

“If you don’t believe me, vhen ve bring back zhe good doctor you can ask him about Sissi.”

“Sissi?” Sniper pawed at something peculiar tucked under the van.

“Doctor’s first _Vögel_. Black plumage that seemed to radiate under both sun and moonlight, he nursed zhat bitty bird right vhen it should have died. Zhey vere inseparable from vhat I’m recollecting.”

 

Sniper picked up a small ivory looking pebble and rolled it around his forefingers. “This is a tooth.”

“Oh? Give it here zhen! Any bit of zhe doctor can up zhe chances of respawn vorking!” 

Surrendering the only bit of Medic left, Sniper watched as Jürgen tucked it inside a stowaway chamber in his chassis. 

“Let’s take that back then right away. C’mon.”

“Good idea.” 

 

Jürgen continued reliving scenes of his doppelgänger, illustrating them as best he could to Sniper on their walk back to the base. However the thought of a younger Sven cast out of his home troubled the listening man in a heart-wrenching, gut-churning manner. 

He wanted to know the full story. Not from that heap of metal though, but from the lips of the man he coveted so much. 

His irritation evolved into outright disgust as he stewed on the concept of Medic’s parents. The hell was wrong with them, leaving such a smart and lovable boy to die like that? 

Was he even lovable as a boy though? His track record with both his allies and enemies would suggest otherwise. 

Sniper caught up with his bias and curtailed his thoughts before they got too out of hand. He turned behind him to find wildly animated flailing arms and a jaw that wouldn’t cease flapping. 

 

“…And zhere vas zhis one time zhey vent fishing together und—”

“Give it a rest. If I want to hear about Sven’s life, I’ll hear it directly from him, yeah? Pretty sure he ain’t gonna be too happy if he comes back and finds out you told me things he ain’t want me to know.”

The robot’s arms clutched at its face, eyes flashing in fear. “Oh, don’t tell him I told you anyzhing! I just vanted you to know zhat he’d definitely appreciate your training, is all.”

“Yeah, oi bet,” Sniper mentally noted.

“Even zhough he presents himself a certain vay, vell…you of all people should know he likes to get his hands dirty. And not just in a voodsy-outdoorsy way, heh.” 

“…Did you just wink at me?” Sniper felt his body heat up at the realization that it had access to all of Medic’s memories. “Hey! How much you know about us?”

Jürgen chortled with a half-second eye flicker.

”Wot was that wink about?”

“Oh, nozhing, nozhing. Vell, just certain moments involving you und zhe great doctor.”

“Like what? Spit them out! Wot’re you looking at in there? Oi’ll throw you in a pool of water m’self!” 

No bodies of water were actually present, but Sniper noted the rain-filled oil drums at the front of the base. With a quick snatch, Jürgen was dragged closer and closer to his demise, generating a grating sulking sound the best he could.

“Vait, vait! I was kidding! Zhere aren’t any memories like zhat except for zhe ones in his dreams!”

Right in front of the barrel’s edge the two of them seized movement. 

 

“He dreamt about me?” 

“Vell…I zhink zhis falls in the realm of ‘I shouldn’t be talking about zhis’, don’t you zhink—”

Small bits of the AI shook about in Sniper’s grasp. “Wot about?”

The change from hyper-aggression to soft and curious puzzled the AI greatly. He hadn’t realized his creator had so much sway over Sniper, even if he fought with him all the time about the simplest things. The concept of whatever relationship they had was astounding to the robot, and he just stared non-responsively back at him, processing it all.

“Oh, so you not gonna tell me now? Well foine by me then,” he grumbled.

“Zhey’re mostly not involving vork. Mostly…just you und him spending time togezher. Or just being around each ozher. I mean, zhere are a lot of dreams he remembered zhat are like zhis.”

“We rarely hang out. Oi’m always up in m’nest, and he’s busy tendin’ to everybody and the sorts.”

“Yes. Zhat’s probably vhy zhere are so many dreams…some more intense zhan ozhers—ah, Sniper, are you okay?”

Face beet red with a vagrant glare, he snatched Jürgen and pulled him into the base’s doors. 

“That kid’s gonna pay for what he did. But right now, we need to see Engineer.” 

“Y-yes, but of course,” Jürgen trailed off. 

 

Although Sniper walked ahead, it was obvious something was wrong with the beeping mess trailing behind him. He stopped at the crossroads inside the base and turned around to assess his follower visually.

“Wot’s your issue? Somethin’ inside you there keeps making noise.”

“Sorry. I’m…thinking.” Jürgen tucked his hands behind his back and looked towards the roaring flames of the common area’s fireplace. 

“So what’s th’problem?”

“Ah, vell…” All the memories that Sven had left behind started to have a profound impact on the metal man that housed them. Certainly he wasn’t supposed to filter through them, but the ones featuring Sniper were particularly rough and raunchy or romantic and sweet. He dimmed down his eyes to feign a moment of malfunction, but the reality was something far more dangerous.

“I seem to be falling in love wizh you, herr Sniper. I mean, not quite zhere yet, but I zhink in time…”

“Yeah, and oi need a nap too, but—wait, wot’d you say?”

“All of zhese scenes, images, ideas of you und zhe Doctor…zhey’re absolutely perfect. I vant zhis for myself. Und it seems like--”

Sniper waved his hand at Jürgen and avoided eye contact. “Oi heard enough. Now c’mon, let’s get to hard hat.”

“But Sniper, don’t you—”

“No.

“Don’t speak, just, let’s go.” 

Jürgen saw the tension in Sniper’s fist, the tightening of his jaw, and the clenching of his teeth. Dismissing his obvious discomfort and stepping away would have been the logical thing to do, but the AI couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t follow through these processes. 

Instead, he just wanted to rest his metal fingers again the huntsman’s skin, just to sap enough warmth to experience the sensation of holding the man before him. After all, the scenes Sven had so gloriously illustrated promised a sense of blissful permanence.

He extended his hand but quickly retracted it before Sniper cut a glare at him. 

The look was enough to force his emergency fans to kick on to cool him down, but it wasn’t enough.

“Liam, I…” Small billows of smoke seeped from his frame, and the robot could no longer roll forward.

“Oi told you don’t call me by my-- _Hey!_ ” Sniper wailed out towards the halls, “Shit, someone! Oi need a little ‘elp ‘ere!” 

“I zhink zhe gyroscope inside me vill keep me upright if I just…” Jürgen’s eyes flickered before an erratic burst of steam shot from a crevasse in his left shoulder. “Sniper, if you can, zhe tooth.”

Sniper’s eyes bulged at the sight before reaching for the AI’s chest door. Upon touch, his flesh sizzled and he pulled his fingers back and into his mouth. “You’re burnin’ up, oi can’t get in,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” was all Jürgen could muster before his power fluctuated again.

“Just, stay with me, ya hear? Or since oi’m right here, power down if y’need ta cool off.”

“Zhat’s…nice of you. Danke, Sniper.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “And when you wake up, you can tell me anything you like. It’ll be fine.”

“Zhat’s…nice, too. I’ll hold you to…” The bright blue lights that were his eyes had flickered down to nothingness. Sniper sighed at the sight of the upright plinth of metal, contemplating his exact feelings.

 

It didn’t take long for Demo and Engineer to show up soon after, and they pressed Sniper with question after question trying to figure out exactly what happened. He had explained that he overheated, that his fans weren’t cooling him enough, that he could have melted himself if he didn’t shut down when he did—but not once did he explain what caused the malfunction. Demo brushed it off, calling over Pyro to lift the heat-riddled heap that was the Medibot. 

But Engineer was no fool. He cut his eyes at Sniper and watched as Pyro hauled his creation back to the workshop. 

“After I patch him up, you’re gonna tell me everything that happened. And I mean everything. Now come on, Stretch.”

“R-right.” 

 

Sniper rolled around what to say to his teammate without sounding insane.

But the situation _was_ insane. Bat shit crazy, and yet there was absolutely no way Sniper was getting out of explicating the breakdown of the dear Medibot dubbed Jürgen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
> 
> Oooh, it's been a while. Hey hey cuties.


	24. Chapter 24

_The robot claimed it loved me._ “Nah, too forward.”  
_It just stopped working!_ “Hell, that’s too vague.”  
_Jürgen professed his unwavering magnetism towards me!_ "No, sounds like some fancy crap Spy would say."

Sniper sat in the corner of Engi’s workshop, face smooshed and hidden between his palms. The past couple of days had been extra strenuous on top of the normal neglect his body usually received. As much as he wanted to rest his eyes, the current situations wouldn’t allow him that luxury. 

First Medic, now the Medibot. He wondered if he was cursed with being a doctor killer.

Flashing blue lights filtered through Sniper’s fingers, coalescing into a cobalt blur that should have soothed his eyes.

Peeking through, he witnessed the blaring flames of a blowtorch at work. 

He moaned and clenched his digits closer together. He didn’t want to view the surgery of a clone, or smell the musty-almost blood-like scent of liquescing alloys. He didn’t want to hear the off-and-on of switches, the turning of wrenches, drilling of bits. 

He just wanted to flee, the same way the kid did, just to get away from the hell of it all. Sniper didn’t want to, but at that moment empathizing with the team killer was inevitable.

“Phew-wy! Glad that’s done. Good work there, Py.”

“Nrr Prrbrrm.” _(No problem.)_

“No way did I ever think he’d get himself worked up to the point of a meltdown. Guess it’s better this happened sooner than later.” 

Pyro nodded in agreement.

 

“Seems like I still need a few parts though, along with a bit more Australium.” Pyro cocked his head at Engineer as his voice trailed off. “Well, if everything goes as planned, I’m sure Jürgen would be mighty pleased. Guess I’ll go ahead and fill his request too while I’m at it.”

“Hrrs Rrqrrst?” _(His request?)_

“Well…” The Texan beckoned Pyro to come a little closer, inching as close to his ear as possible. “Gonna give the Doc Bot here some legs. He don’t seem too fond of the wheel and everything, so maybe it’ll help him acclimate better. Also might get the Sniper to like him more,” he whispered extra low. 

 

A burst of clapping and prancing about brought Sniper to spread his fingers again. Of course it was muffled laughter, Pyro’s childish trademark that teetered between insanity and innocence. He marveled at the parading man before focusing closer on Engineer’s flailing to pipe him down. 

As if knowing he was being watched, Engineer eyed the balled up Sniper, watching as he recoiled completely.

 

“Stretch, I know you ain’t sleepin’.”

Sniper let out a heavy groan and crawled up the back of the wall to stand upright. It was a miracle his back allowed the gesture first time around.

“Yeah, oi’m up. So you figure out what’s wrong with the thing?”

“Well, I know it was caused by a severe processing error. His chips’re nearly fried—it’s a good thing he shut down when he did.

 

“So. You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Wot?”

“Sniper, this ain’t no regular occurrence. He overloaded in such a way that nobody was expecting, so if anything in particular happened, I’m gonna need to you tell me, for the sake of both the Doc _and_ Jürgen here.

“Listen, we’re gonna take a little walk, so come on.”

 

Declarations of locomotion never appealed to the Australian. He rolled his eyes as Engineer lugged the workshop door closed. 

 

“Now then,” Engi started, “I’m gonna assume that something put him under a lot of stress? His records barely showed what happened the last ten minutes before his meltdown, but it looked like a huge spike between his power consumption and his AI readings.”

Sniper patted himself down for that cigarette Spy had gifted him a couple days ago. He still hadn’t figured out just how to explain what happened.

“Stretch?”

“Hey Truckie, y’wanna tell me how that bot’s AI works exactly?”

Engi’s eyes scrunched up in disbelief. “All due respect, but I don’t think you wanna hear what you’re asking.”

“Nah, not the technical, sciency-techie stuff. Just give it to me straight.”

“Well, the Medibot’s running a cloned version of what was a pretty direct replica of Doc’s psyche, including mannerisms, personality and thought processes. But since we had taken all the original samples Jürgen had initially, he’s pretty much running a version of Sven that has holes in it, and he’s trying to fill them up with his own personality. I mean, when Doc and I sat together and planned him out, not once did we really etch out his personality or anything—that came on its own.”

“You saying Jürgen’s actually his own…” Sniper couldn’t bring himself to say 'person', seeing he was still a heap of metal.

“Mann? Sure looks that way. Give it time, and his own personality might overwrite Sven’s…which is fine down the road. Pretty sure Doc would be cheeky ‘bout that too.”

 

“Alright, look.” Sniper kneaded at his forehead before extending his arm outward to pull Engineer in closer. Although they hadn’t travelled but ten spaces from the plated workshop door, the halls were clear and Sniper knew he had to get it out of him.

“The bot’s got the hots for me or somethin’!” Engineer’s eyes bulged at what was forcefully whispered. 

“Say what now?”

“He…roight over there!” Sniper pointed at the spot the Medibot broke down at. “He said he was fallin’ in love with me, Truckie. _In love._ You sure you ain’t program something weird into him or nothin’?”

“Well, I’ll be.”

“Oi! You hearin’ me?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. So, what’d you tell him?”

“Wot?”

“I mean, most people don’t fall in love in a couple of days. Means he’s been viewing Sven’s memories.”

Sniper froze up as Engi pieced together things aloud. He needed to stay calm through all this, he told himself. After all, nobody knew how he felt about Sven beyond their obvious, if not sudden “friendship”.

"Now, I don't know what exactly Jürgen is seeing in there, but whatever it is, you need to remember they're Doc's feelings ultimately."

"You just said his own personality--"

" _Over time_ , Sniper. Right now, he's making choices based on Sven's perceptions of you...'n whatever they are, they must be pretty strong ‘n fairly repressed."

 

Engineer sighed as his teammate spat one explicative after the next. 

 

"Don't reactivate him. Oi got enough t'deal with right now, and having some bumblin' sack o' bolts swoonin' over me ain't helpin' nobody."

"Now you know I can't do that. We need someone with medical knowledge able to help, and Jürgen is all we got for the moment."

The Texan scratched at the nape of his neck in thought before reaching into his pocket.

"Look, I can try to peek into his drives and see if I can truncate whatever process strings he generated--"

Sniper’s flattened expression was enough of a cue for the tinker.

"What I’m saying is I can try to erase that memory from Jürgen's mind, but..." Engineer’s calloused hands palmed at a flat-head screw driver summoned earlier. "Jürgen's feelings mean there's a good chance he's starting to register Medic's memories as his own. That lack of differentiation’s a huge problem if he's supposed to be the backup brain, so to speak.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…chances are fiddlin' with Jürgen's mind might permanently get rid of certain aspects of of Doc that we might need in the future...and I ain't too comfortable with a procedure that could stick another nail in his coffin."

Wrinkles rippled on Sniper’s forehead. Engineer had said just about everything the huntsman didn't want to hear.

"So wot you're sayin' is t'just deal with it, then?"

"Ain't so different than a grade school crush...or at least, I reckon. Much won't happen...unless you let it happen,” he grinned. As expected, Engi’s commentary was ill-received.

“Wot’re you implying—”

 

Nearby metal scrooped against the floor. Sniper was never happier to see Pyro pinned next to the galvanized door frame.

Engineer’s attention shifted to the incessant tapping of the firebug’s foot, and he proceeded to exhale.

"Py, your blowtorch."

"Rr nrr." _(I know.)_ He cranked up the flame and stared into it, suppressing urges to squeal and be giddy.

"Ain't no reason for that much sass now--"

 

"Rr crrm tr trll yrr Yrrgrrn's rrwrrk." _(I came to tell you you Jürgen's awake.)_

“What? You turned him on?”

“Hr trrnd hrrmsrrf rn.” _(He turned himself on.)_

The two men stared at each other before rushing back inside the tinker’s studio only to find their prized robotic companion clutching his head.

 

“Hey, hey, you definitely shouldn’t be booting up right now—”

“I talked to Sven,” Jürgen proclaimed in pained delight. His chassis lights were dim, and it seemed like he was having a hard time keeping awake, but that wasn't enough to stop him from talking with glee. 

 

Engineer squinted as his head shook in disbelief. “You what now?”

“In my dream—vell, stasis if you vill. It vas very strange.”

“Well that’s impossible, you were completely powered off—”

“Vait,” Jürgen interrupted, “I haven’t told you zhe best part! In zhe dream, Sven doktor vas vorking on a machine of sorts. In between waves, he vould be in zhe respawn room speaking vizh dead teammates. It vas very impressive.”

“What on Earth are you ramblin’ ‘bout—”

“Zhe blueprint vere amazing! I had no idea he vas capable of creating somezhing so cool! But zhen again, he did invent all zhose Mediguns, so…”

“Now just hold on a minute! Blueprint? You saw this in your dream?”

“Ja! Vell, it’s a set of four altogether, but you get zhe idea—”

 

“We need to be spending our time thinking of way to save the doc, not listening to your damn dreams!” Jurgen’s eyes flickered at Sniper’s explosive voice.

“Wait, wait, now,” Engineer interjected. ”Were you listenin’ to a thing I was tellin’ you outside?”

 

Sniper only stared back at Engineer in a perplexed manner. 

 

“That ain’t no dream. Whatever he saw was from Sven’s memory. Whatever that machine is…well, shoot.”

“Wot?”

“Doc Bot here might be pointing us in the right direction. I actually think we need to find them blueprints. What’d’ya say?” 

“Y’don’t need me for that.”

“Sure I don’t _need_ ya, but Doc Bot here might.”

 

Sniper locked eyes with Jürgen in disgust before grumbling his way out of Engineer’s workshop. No way was he to spend anymore time with that metallic nuisance before his memory corrected him. 

 

But as his boots clicked down the hall, and as Sniper pushed open the door to his room, he started to think about what the Texan had been going on about. 

 

If…everything in Jürgen's head were just memories, or warped versions of them, there actually was a good chance whatever he saw in his dreams were in fact real.

And if those blueprints really did exist to a machine that could return Sven to a solid state, Sniper could not leave it ignored.

He left the lights off in his room and plopped onto his rock of a mattress. He would need to force himself to sleep if he were to sneak about Medic’s laboratory undetected for these important blueprints. How he would avoid arousing any unwanted attention from Engineer or Jürgen escaped him completely. However as he closed his eyes, his mind was already up--he would hunt for those blueprints as soon as he woke up from his slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
> 
> Got a new job, so that + meds leave me too zoned out to write!
> 
> Working on the next chap though, thanks for being so patient <3.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the grave <3
> 
> We got a long 'un here, grab a drink (and lock your door)

“If I wanted to watch a cockroach clamor about, I would ‘ave made it so with one of zhose insufferable mechanical contraptions. But zhis... _child_ , zhis _lowlife_ , _miscreant_ \--”

“Spy, your nose is _extreeemely_ red at the moment.”

The frenchman’s words were cut short as he lifted his hand to the slits that exposed parts of his face. Even through the leather, a searing heat was present. 

Whether it was boiling rage or his incessant passion for the Doc pigmenting his face, he couldn’t clearly discern.

“I remember the last time my face was red like that! Wait--”

Spy pulled his hand away, exasperated with his partner’s banter.

“Right, it was when Zhanna took me to her bedroom and did that thing with her mouth--”

“ _Please_ Soldier, just, _please_.” The thought did nothing but bring up memories of what the doctor used to do with him after his shots. It sent a tingle up Spy’s spine that was one part arousal and two parts fear. 

“What? She told me she wanted to be my lady friend and that was absolutely wonderful! No better days exist except the Fourth of July and Independence Day!”  
“Zhey are zhe same...nevermind.” Spy cut his eyes over at his now beaming teammate. 

Admittedly, he never did see Soldier operate in such a functional manner until he met Heavy’s sister. One would almost dub it a Smissmas miracle, even if their antics sent Spy cloaking in the opposite direction. 

The more he thought about it, the more he actually realized whenever she was around, those god-forsaken over-sized rodents of his were put away and tucked nowhere to be found. 

“You have that same face! There, right there! The face of _love_! There is no denying it, I am an expert in these matters now!” 

 

.  
“Expert, you say?” Crackling and spitting of flames interrupted Spy’s inquiry. He stoked down the makeshift pit before clearing his throat. “I’ll ‘ave you know my face is zhis colour because I am so close to zhe fire.

“But do entertain me. Share with me your expertise.”

Soldier grabbed hold of his chin in one hand and his helmet in the other. 

“Hmm...”

“Well?”

“If you care about somebody, you must protect them at all costs, even if they can protect themselves! You do this private, and they’ll feel extra good. 

“This theory is proven! Lieutenant Bites is a shining display of true love!”

Spy slumped against the boulder his back was propped up on. The decayed leaves and random brambles scratched at his bottom in an uncomfortable manner, but Soldier’s “advice” was probably the most unsettling recommendation he had heard in a while.

Tuning out the tales of his rabid pet was easy enough, but his counsel had thrown the assassin into a flurry of thoughts. 

He knew he loved Sven for such a long time. There was probably a point where it was possible his doctor felt the same. No matter if Medic acted on said feelings or not, Spy felt it was important to stick by him as best as he could, whenever, however. 

Even he couldn’t fulfill Soldier’s rudimentary rules on love, and that left a sour taste on Spy’s tongue.

“SPY!” 

Reflexively, Spy blinked and looked up at the newly armed Soldier. 

“What iz it?”

“SSH,” he breathed with force. “Look, across the way, towards that body of water.”

Spy squinted his eyes for focus. Billowing smoke was barely wafting in the wind, but it was certain--someone had set up a quick camp there.

His throat tightened and he clenched his teeth. Unless there was another escaped convict, there was only one other being on that side of the universe it could be.

Colourful language danced inside his head, and his cheeks flushed with anger again.

“What iz zhe plan.”

“Plan? I’m gonna market garden that bastard--”

“Non, Soldat, zhat is too loud, and 'e will run. I will capture ‘im queitly, but I will need your help in doing so.”

“Gonna use that fancy smoke of yours? He’ll smell your flowery stench before you can even get close!”

“Yes, and your musk of three days will go unnoticed? Please! Just...” Spy rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a number of faces. Squatting down, he assessed his arsenal for the mission at hand.

“I will cloak my way over zhere, but it will take some time. Seeing ‘e has camp, ‘e isn’t going anywhere soon.” His hand hovered over his Dead Ringer and paused. “Yes. After zhat, I will disguise myself as Sv-- _our_ Medic, and zhen ring zhe body so that I look like...” Wrapping his head around actually viewing his friend’s corpse left the man distressed in silence. 

“Your plan is too long for war! I say I jump in, shoot at you so you go ghosty, and get close! Then you flank him and we catch him when your frilly toy recharges or whatever!”

“You mean you will strike me with a rocket? Zhat actually hurts you know, outside of grounds. I will get injured."

“You can heal when we get to base--”

“I ‘ave to _drive_ back to base, I need my feet and legs, Soldier.”

Soldier stared at his teammate before snapping his fingers. 

“I will shoot behind the Scout--”

“ _If_ it is zhe Scout--”

“--And he will run towards me because he is an idiotic, hormonal brat!” 

Spy silently agreed.

“Then, you will flank him and we will capture him!”

“Zhat...sounds like an alright plan,” he conceded. “But what if he retaliates?”

Soldier grabbed his shovel and patted it on his helmet twice. “I knock his lights out!”

“A concussion zhen.”

“A cat-nap!”

The two of them snickered together before nodding. 

“Very well zhen. I will make my way over zhere now. But do not shoot until I give you zhe signal.”

“Signal?”

“I will scratch my nose wizh my left hand.”

“Scratching noses, got it.”

“ _Wizh,_ ” Spy enunciated, “my left hand.”

“Alright! Get a move on, woman! We’ve got a crazy Kraut to save on this fine night!” 

Spy ignored the jeers and ill comments and nodded with new resolve. Dusting the bottom of his slacks off and straightening his suit jacket, he slipped his first watch onto his wrist and cloaked towards what he hoped to be the murderer of his beloved.

* * *

“Wot’re you doin’ here, mate?”

Sniper raked through his matted hair as he smiled upon a familiar face.

“You seem to like hiding things from me in order to keep me up in zhis bed of yours.”

Sniper’s eyes focused with intensity on the man crawling his way up and onto the mattress, easing ever so slowly until the crunching cries of plastic and metal springs seized.

He exhaled deep from his gut and nervously threw his gaze away from his guest, yet a warm touch pulled his chin in the direction where his attention was supposed to be. 

“I didn’t climb up here for _my_ health, you know.” The whispers sent a jolt through Sniper’s throat and pulsed again through different points on his body. 

“Wot’d you come up here for--” 

Sniper held his breath as the slow crawl commenced again. Smooth, calculated steps with hands and knees inched across the bed.

 

He had hovered over the Sniper, staring down at him with the strict cerulean gaze the Hunstman loved and feared simultaneously. 

A hard, ill-concealed swallow led to a faint chortle from his guest.

“Are you uncomfortable, herr Sniper?”

“Might be.”

“Don’t vorry,” he husked, gracefully placing his arms and head onto Sniper’s chest, “I have somezhing for zhat.”

“Y’don’t say.”

“Vell, I am a doctor after all.” Medic’s exploratory fingers found their way up to Sniper’s hair, twirling it between his oddly moistened tips. 

Sniper laughed just for a moment and Medic tugged his hand away.

“Vhat’s so funny?”

“Y’not particularly calm either.”

“Vhat? I’m just fine.” The doctor struggled to keep a steady voice, but Sniper didn’t mind the other man’s flustered bumblings at all. 

“Yeah you are.” Reaching back for Medic’s clammy hand, he took it and nestled it on the side of his neck. “Feels nice right there if ya squeeze a bit. Snipin’ calls for bad posture.”

Medic stroked the huntsman down, observing every little detail and cataloguing each reaction mentally; if he traced downward on the side, Sniper would twitch a bit and clench his jaw; if he pinched his neck a bit, Sniper’s eyebrows would quirk up and then relax again. And if he placed pressure towards the back of his neck, the Australian would release a slow groan that the doctor found deeply arousing. 

 

When the kneading of Sniper’s neck seized, the huntsman debated opening his eyes, but decided against it and parted his lips.

“Never told me wot’y’re lookin’ for up here,” he hushed.

Scooting up, Medic placed his ear onto Sniper’s chest and closed his eyes to listen to Liam’s coveted heartbeat.

“H-hey,” was all Sniper could utter before opening his eyes to the sight before him. 

It wasn’t everyday he got the pleasure of seeing the Doc so content, so docile, and carefree.

 

“Sven?”

“Yes, Liam, vhat is it,” he murmured into his chest.

“Lift up.”

Medic shook his head and blurted out what sounded like a ‘no’.

“But I wanna see your face.”

Sven forced his face deeper into Sniper’s body before huffing and coming back up for air. 

“There you are,” Liam cooed. He brushed his fingers along Medic’s blood-flushed cheeks and pulled him in by his shoulders so he could get closer.

“Oi like that you’re here,” he started, “but before...anything else, wot’re y’after?” Hands were wandering down the doctor’s sides, and it was clear Sven was trying to suppress responsive urges.

“Vell...” Medic’s bottom lip tapped Sniper’s as he spoke, and he licked his own lips before looking back at Liam again.

“Don’t get quiet on me now.” He nuzzled noses with Medic before pulling away again.

“House call, Liam. I just...needed to check some zhings, take some notes. You know,” he trailed off, reaching for Sniper’s neck once more. 

Sniper grinned as he pulled away a second time. The teasing sent his doctor into a silent fit with the occasional whimper, and Liam was enjoying every second of it. 

“Yeah, alright. So what’s the first order of business?”

Medic didn’t reply. In fact, all Medic did was stare at Sniper’s lips while his slinking hands clamped tight right below Liam’s shoulders.

“Doc?”

“Osculation.”

“Wot’s that even mea--” 

Words were stolen from the Australian as the doctor jammed his lips onto Liam’s, plunging and swirling his tongue around his mouth whenever Sniper let him. 

It didn’t take much before Liam equally lost all inhibition, grabbing the back of Sven’s head and tilting his neck so he could get deeper into his mouth. 

He wanted to savor the taste of this man, and draw breath from him in between sloppily planted kisses.

When Medic broke for air, Sniper yanked him right back in with his left hand while vicing Sven’s sides with his right. 

He clutched on to a small portion of the doc’s arm and pinched, resulting in a low moan that Sniper felt in the back of his own throat. He wanted that sound to ring through the van again and again. 

“Ach, vai-vait.” Sven tried to ease away, but Liam had too great a hold on him to allow an escape. There was no way he was gonna let anything interrupt or separate them ever again...or so he thought.

“Liam, vait--mm, just-- _fick_ , Liam--anngh--zhat hurts--”

Laving the side of Medic’s neck with his tongue in between intense sucking, Sniper let out a large pop of a sound with his mouth. 

“So used to dealin’ out all the pain, you forgot what it actually feels like.” He tugged at Medic’s skin, nipping it with his teeth before diving full on into his neck again.

Sven squirmed and writhed on top of Sniper to the point where Liam had to use his gun arm to keep the doctor pinned to his chest. 

Medic hadn’t expected someone so svelte to be able to keep him pressed down, let alone with one arm. Just thinking about it made his pants feel a little tighter than before. 

 

Sniper released the doctor’s neck from his lips, letting a slow trickle of saliva ease down past the tip of his collar bone. 

He wanted to wipe the invasive liquid slinking down his now-wrinkled shirt, but Liam pulled his head back and stared down into Sven’s eyes, which pierced through the doc’s guise of disgust and repulsion. 

“Oi wish I had a mirror for you,” he huffed, inebriated from the high of the make-out. “The red looks good on you, but the purple’ll look better in time.”

Medic tried to glance at his neck but couldn’t see a thing. Only the stinging reminder tingled on. 

With excitement sending blood coursing through their bodies in a rapid fashion, light rubs against one another elicited hefty groans and noticeable shifts.

“I’m,” Medic tried to speak again, caught up again in salacious ardor, “not going,” but kept tug-of-warring with Sniper’s tongue, “anyvhere, Liam, so loosen up--”

“Shut up ‘n kiss me,” Liam heaved.

“But, I vant...to take zhis off, und--”

With a rough huff and slight shove, Sniper pushed Medic away from him and narrowed his eyes at him--one part out of anger and two out of predation.

Liam threw a hand behind his head and another between his legs on top of what obviously was a very stiff erection.

Impatience mounted as the Australian focused on Medic slowly removing his lab coat. A pen or two had fallen out of the pockets, but soon the entire article of clothing slumped off of the bed and onto the floor of the camper.

“You’re killin’ me,” he waned, desperate to touch the flesh that was steadily being unveiled. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. Here, just...” Sven guided Liam’s hand onto his chest as he finished the rest of the buttons. Warmth was emanating from Medic’s body in waves almost visible to the Sniper, and he pulled away slightly just to see how hot his doctor was. 

As Medic began loosening his tie, Sniper tugged on it with care. “Keep this on.”

“A kink?”” He peeled his dress shirt off and watched it plummeted down with the rest of his clothes. “Maybe I should’ve kept my jacket on too,” he teased. Sven motioned to remove the silk choker, but Sniper grabbed at it once more before bearing a full-on smile. 

“Oi normally hate these things.” He twirled Sven’s tie around and let it tickle his lover’s abdomen, tracing the faint indentations of muscles while squeezing his own agonizingly hard cock. “It’s doin’ somethin’ for me now though.”

He let the piece of cloth sift through his fingers as Medic lay back down on top of his chest, smooching and pecking at Liam as he undid his belt buckle. It flew off the bed, interrupting whatever strip tease Sven was performing, and all that remained were Medic’s boxers with a spot so wet that his tip was visible through the fabric.

A hand had slinked its way past the clothed slit despite the doctor’s blissful squirming. Sniper went to work cupping and massaging swollen testicles, tugging every so often to elicit  
faint yet erratic whimpers. Rolling the tender skin through his fingertips, he eventually found his hand wrapping around a harder, more lively organ that breathed and pulsed whenever he feathered against him.

“Ach...”

Sniper watched his lover in lidded awe as his doctor groaned and rubbed his head into his neck. Medic palmed at the Australian’s sides, and then grabbed at the front of his hair as he grunted and thrusted harder into Sniper’s hand. 

“ _Fick_ , Liam.”

“Easy, easy. Oi want y’to last for a bit.” 

Sniper pulled his hand from Sven’s boxers, palm coated with a warm, viscous, sticky sap. The doctor groaned in discontent, pawing at the huntsman and huffing heavily into his neck. He wanted to be held longer, and closer, and _tighter_ than ever before, and the slow release on Sniper’s vice troubled the enraptured man.

“Liam, vha--”

Two fingers slid into the doctor’s mouth, exploring and coating his tongue with the mildly sweet remnants of himself. The soft bit of flesh easing against his fingertips made control even more difficult for the Hunstman than he anticipated, and he tried to pull from out his lover’s mouth. 

“Nnm,” was all he got back as Sven sucked down harder, licking everything clean and allowing the Huntsman’s digits to hit the back of his throat. Sniper’s eyes strained from widening so much at the sight. 

“Bloody...Here, fuck then.” 

Sniper was finally allowed to pull his fingers free from Medic’s piping hot mouth and stared as saliva trailed from his reddened lips down past his chin. The sexual nature of the good doctor was becoming too much to bear.

As Sniper tasted his own fingers in curiousity, Medic went to work getting the remainder of Sniper’s clothes off to the best of his ability, save for his class shirt. He unbuttoned it all the way, tracing the hair on his chest down Liam’s treasure trail down to a nicely trimmed bush of peppered curls. Protruding though the tuft was a pillar of heat, and Sven loosely gripped him, running his thumb across blood-engorged veins and a moistened tip similar to his own.

Medic looked from over his glasses at Liam, who gnawed his bottom lip, head thrown back against the wall of his van. Sven grinned with every firm pump of his hand, sliding from the head down to the hilt and back again. He reveled in the control he had over the other man immensely, but deep down he wanted to fully explore that glimpse of ferality Sniper had provided when they first kissed.

In a quick yet subtle movement, Medic inched down on the bed and hovered his mouth over the tip of Sniper. A few exhalations tickled Liam back to his senses again, but the instant Sven parted his lips to take him into his mouth, he hissed and was gone once more. 

Slurps and sucking noises amplified with the occasional emasculated sigh of bliss easing from Sniper’s lips. His toes flexed and curled, and his spine shivered in sporadic bursts, unsure how to react to Medic’s agile tongue.

“God, wot the hell are you,” Liam whispered as he latched onto a handful of Sven’s hair. He felt his body tensing up, itching to shove the rest of his cock down Sven’s tight throat. He could feel warm fluids swishing past his delicate skin, and one good suck off of Liam left him moaning audibly.

“Vhat am I?” Medic dropped back down and ravaged the mess of a man in chaste sucks before surfacing again for air. He let the remnants of pre-cum and saliva fall over Sven’s dick and down past his pubic hair before laughing softly. “Vell, I am your doctor. Zhough I suppose I can be more.”

Before Liam could reply, he was devoured again. Light flicks under the head of his cock paired with the increased speed left the Australian desperately gasping for a full breath of air. He watched as Medic bathed the underside of him with kisses before taking him whole again and again. The grip Sniper had on his hair was intensifying, and his free hand grasped at his lover’s cheek before groaning again. 

“Fuck, just like that.” 

Sniper fell into a euphoric state of rapture as he felt a rawness come on with mounting pressure. He tried to focus on control, his gun--anything to calm him down, but he peeked down at Sven’s reddened face and icy eyes coated in drool and sweat and flinched. Between his face and the heavy scent of musk and sexual desperation in the air of his van, he couldn’t focus on anything any longer.

“God, Doc, I can’t--”

Medic felt the first wave of pre-cum jet down his throat and swallowed it eagerly, keeping a vacuum-vice grip on him with his mouth. He knew Liam was close, the man could barely keep still or form a coherent statement. Sniper’s cock throbbed endlessly before finally giving out, shooting a thick jet of semen to the back and down his throat. The convulsions didn’t seize, as he came a little more, allowing Medic to swish the remnants around in his mouth. 

After toying with Sniper’s cum, he swallowed the last bit and allowed his lover to become flaccid within the warmth of his mouth before pulling off entirely. 

“So,” Medic whispered as he wiped the sides of his mouth.

Sniper didn’t reply for a minute before finally exhaling completely. He eased himself up and motioned the Doc to get closer to him, and he welcomed Sven’s heated body into his embrace.

Taking him close to his chest, he almost forgot about his partner’s own arousal. 

“Wo--Doc, you okay? Did oi do somethin’ wrong?” He poked around and looked down to notice the Medic was no longer erect.

“Of course I’m fine. Zhough I hope you enjoyed yourself--”

“God, yes--”

“--But also zhought about vhat I said earlier...zhat is, if you vant zhat.”

“Want wha--oh.” Sniper scratched at the back of his head and looked down at his bed. 

“Yeah, oi’d...Oi’d like that very much.”

“Vell, zhat’s good zhen. Ve’ll get to be togezher very soon zhen.”

Sniper pushed the Doc away and glared at him in question.

“Wot do you mean ‘we’ll be together’, you’re here now, ain’t ya?”

“Jürgen, if you vould please.” 

Sniper stared at Medic in horror as the clarity of his realism crumbled before his eyes. “Th’hell is goin’ on.”

“I’m sorry Sniper, I just vanted to see you so badly und make sure you vere okay. You can yell at me vhen you wake up.”

“Sven! You son of a--”

 

“I’ll make it up to you _mein liebe_ , I promise!” 

Darkness rapidly enveloped Sniper as he lost consciousness. 

 

It seemed like hours later before he woke again. He groaned and scratched at his rear only to hear a still humming and feel warmth pressed against him.

“Wot the--”

He hit his head twice on the bunk and once as he backed against the bed onto the wall.

“No! You--you get the hell out, you--” Sniper cocked his head and squinted his eyes in disbelief. 

 

In bed with him was a fully-fleshed entity equipped with dyed black hair, cleaned fingernails and blemish-free skin. He looked closer at the person in his bed, quickly deducing that it looked just like Sven, but something was off.

“Who are you--” 

He stopped his sentence dead as he noticed dried saliva marks on his cheeks in an abrupt manner.

“No,” he muttered, piecing together what he hopped was just speculation.  
The faint whirring that Liam heard earlier amplified until the being before him blinked his eyes slowly, as if waking from slumber. Sniper’s eyes bulged at the sight of the yawning man before him.

“Who?”

“Hmm?” He replied, scratching his shoulder. “Oh, hello zhere Sniper.”

“ _Who are you?_ No, you’re not--”

“Jürgen? Ja silly, of course I am. Zhough I do look different from vhen you fell asleep. I got a few upgrades, do you like zhem? Apparently, zhis is vhat Sven looked like vhen he vas younger. I zhink it suits me vell--”

“Get out of my bed.”

“Ugh but Sven--”

“Oi swear if you’re not out by the time I count to two, you’ll be scrap for custom bullets.”

Slowly, the augmented bot eased from beneath the covers, unveiling his full upgraded glory. 

“Th’hell you naked for, get some clothes on!”

“If you had let me finish, I vould have told you zhat Sven said it vas okay and zhat he told me zhat you would be okay wizh zhis, but ugh, he never listens to his better self--”

 

“Wot you mean--you talked to Sven?”

Jürgen moved back and pointed to a huge metallic box parallel to Sniper’s bunk. The robot sighed and clicked his tongue before turning on the pyramid-like contraption on the floor.

Sniper’s jaw dropped at the sight before him. In a cobalt, holographic glory stood the image of the man he had missed terribly.

"Mm," the image flickered and started. "Vell, you look like you had a vonderful slumber. Zhat makes me very happy, I'll have you know." 

Even though the picture quality was horrible, and it dipped in and out, Sniper still clutched onto his sheets and stared in awe.

“It’s Sven,” he breathed.

“Vell of course it’s me, you dummkopf, who else vould it be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -_-_--_-_-____--_-___--_____---_---___----__--_--_--_-_----__-____-__----_---_----_----_-_____----_____---___---  
> I did not forget about you lovely folks! Just had a hard time these past months sitting down and writing--spring/summer harvests are in full swing! 
> 
> Just so you know, this chapter has been split, so the next part's a coming!
> 
> ps, smut's very difficult to write! Send halp stat D: !
> 
> pps, i didn't grammar check, I just wanted to get this out asap since you all have been waiting so long. I'll clean it all up when Lucidity's complete!


	26. Chapter 26

Sniper scratched at the nape of his neck before turning to Jürgen in reluctance. He started to give eye contact, but decided against it completely--he didn’t even want to give him the wrong idea.

“So, wot then, he’s somethin’ like an answering machine then?”

“Ahem,” boomed a familiar yet digitized voice in the room. It seemed there was a sub-woofer inside the pyramid as well. “I am not an answering machine, zhank you very much.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it then, tell me somethin’ y’learned about me in the past couple days then.”

Though questionable, Liam felt it’d be wise if he had a hard, personalized question to verify what was seemingly impossible technology to the assassin.

“Vell, you play an instrument.”

“A coupl’a people know that--”

“And you stopped playing it because zhere vas a girl who you liked back in zhe day zhat forced you to play her love songs in exchange for her loyalty und so called ‘compassion’. Yet she still betrayed you.”

“I--” Sniper pulled his blanket closer to his chest. “I’ont ever remember me tellin’ you all that.” 

“Vell, of course not. But I gazhered zhat from some of zhe brief nightmares you’ve had in between your more violent episodes.”

Liam stared towards the opposite wall in silence, but Sven just sighed.

“Don’t vorry. You calling my name in your sleep iz all zhe music I need, so no pressure again to ever pick up your saxophone.”

“Y’jokes ain’t well received here,” Liam interrupted. 

“Ooh, Sven, you’re _smooth_. Look at zhat, his cheeks are red--”

“Keep quiet, y’talking toaster!”

“You veren’t asking for zhat vhen you vere asleep--”

Sniper recoiled and simmered again. How long have I been knocked out anyway? When he went to sleep, the bot was still a work in progress. Now he basically looked indistinguishable from the real Doc, granted you ignored the mini-light bulbs for eyes. He tuned back into Jürgen’s giggling and got fired up again.

“Oh well since we wanna be on about the subject then!” Sniper roared out and flailed his hand at the mechanical abomination, clutching dearly to his sheet with the other hand as if it were to be stripped from him abruptly. 

Medic didn’t even need him to speak to know the level of his disgust--the small veins bulging on his forehead and on his neck, the rapid inflation and deflation of his chest, the clear discomfort and curling of his body inward all translated to a level of self-exposure and violation that he had allowed. If he was corporeal, his stomach would have flipped over at least twice.

“Y’go and dress... _this_ up to look like--like--”

“I didn’t do anyzhing of zhe sort. How could I have, in zhis spectral state? I need you to be rational, Sniper--”

“You want me to just sit back and think then about being assaulted by your lil’ experiment over there? Well _shit_ Doc, might as well’ve waltzed right on ova’ to the mothership on the hill where all his other god awful mates live 'n' spread myself wide! Oi knew oi should’ve bulleted that metal casing to bits when I first met him!

“And now you wanna make it even harder for me by tartin’ him up t’look like you? Th’hell’s _wrong_ wit’ ya!”

"You said 'him'."

"Wot?"

" _Him._ Zhe article used to identify gender affiliations and zhe likes. You were referring to Jürgen."

"Th'hell does that matter fo--"

"Liam." The beam emitting Medic's visage flickered violently before stabilizing again. "You're not afraid anymore, are you? Yes, yes, so it all worked out.”

Sniper's eyes narrow and he scowled in disbelief. "You serious? Oi wake up and there’s a naked robot in m’bed--”

“Vell, yes, but you veren’t immobilized and deathly afraid, right? Just angry.”

“OI--” Sniper halted and actually looked over at the robot rummaging through his clothing drawers in the corner of his room. His eyes burned into Jürgen, squinted with confusion and lit with rage. "OI trusted you, Sven! And y'sit here before me playing Hospy with me like some dispensable rat!"

"Liam, I--"

"Stop yer bloody gabbin'! Y'took advantage of me 'n' my problems too many times, 'n' oi'm fuckin' done!

"After oi get my hands on that damn Scout, I'll work my situation out alone. Y' can go back to working on whatever you were doing before hand--"

"Oh, vill you _shut up_ already?" 

Sniper shifted his attention to the newly clothed faux doctor. He patted his bed, feeling for a small indentation in his mattress.

"For heaven's sake Sniper, I did nozhing vith you but sleep by your side."

"That's a load of sheep shit--"

"I needed to test my new charging capability," Jürgen squeaked, bunching the end of his shirt in his hands. 

"Vhat are you talking about, Jürgen?" Between the ever-wavering connection, Sven stood erect on the projection, troubled for the news to come.

"I vas talking to Engineer, und he said there vas a vay for me to gazher energy from heat--"

"Your by-products include heat, why would you vant to--"

"He installed military-grade thermo-viral bots right before he did vhat you said. Said I should be in tip-top shape if I vas, er, ‘gussying up’.”

"A wut?" Sniper glared between the doppelgangers as they traded words and terminologies unbeknownst to even the most erudite of men.

“Oh. Vell, I touch somezhing zhat’s warm und organic, und small conversion bots in my skin recycle your vasted energy into somezhing I can use.”

“But your power supply vas never a problem. Australium-nuclear fusion paired vith a kinetic converter isn’t necessarily zhe best means of energy in regards of innovation, but most certainly you have zhe most reliable and consistent one. Engineer and myself made sure of zhat.”

“My original chassis had heating issues zhat needed to be addressed, und if I waited too long, I’m fairly certain I vould have broken down again. I still can’t remember parts of zhat night eizher...”

“Vhat night? Vhat happened to you--”

“Enough, the two of ya.” Sniper had risen from his bed, sheet draped around his hip and dragging behind him towards the door. In one swift motion, he opened it and threw his head towards the hallway. “Out. Th’both of ya.” 

“Sniper, but--”

“Out! Take you and yourself and get out of here. I got far too caught up with all this, and I just want peace, so if you’ll please.”

Jürgen just stared at the exhausted shell holding the door open. “Sven doctor--”

“Give us a moment, Jürgen. I don’t know how much memory of me is still in zhe respawn area, and zhis connection is waning.”

Jürgen ignored and honoured the Australian’s request, inching out of the room without the strange contraption, whispering in question whether or not there was a fire outside in the hallway. 

“I know you hate me now, und...zhat’s fine.

“To be quite honest, zhis entire time I figured you vould eventually get tired und hate me all zhe same, but I vasn’t concerned about zhat in zhe slightest. 

“Let’s be perfectly clear, Sniper. I am your Medic first before all else.”

Sven’s words sliced through the awkward silence, leaving the back of Liam’s throat dry. Sure it was only a few days, but certainly there was _something_ more than just basic patient-doctor relations here.

“You tasked me vith helping you overcome vhat seems to be an abnormal fear. After spending time vith you, I figured you vould need somezhing drastic in order to recondition your thinking. 

“And it vorked, no matter vhat you vant to say to me, it vorked. You don’t see him as somezhing as terrible as you witnessed in your dreams, but somezhing just more irritating. And zhat’s fine.

“So hate me if you vill. If you feel used, good. You should. Zhat is my job, to use everyzhing in my power to fix zhe problem at hand, even if zhat means using you. And I regret nozhing, heh.” The hologram flickered twice as Sven ran his hands through his hair and placed them back on his hips. “But you already know zhat, so I guess I’m not saying anyzhing too new here.”

“Jürgen made that?” Sniper pointed to the base of the metallic pyramid emitting Sven before him.

“Zhis? Yes. He dipped into my memories and found zhe blueprint locations in the recesses. He’s very resourceful.”

“Was your work though.”

“Just a prototype. And it isn’t zhat great either.”

“I’m talking to you right now, how can that not be great--”

“You’re talking to an image of me. Yes, it seems like it’s me--because, vell, it technically is, but--if I ever do respawn, zhen I von’t remember anything said to me.”

Sniper’s heart sank down a little. This still wasn’t the real Sven. His head fell, but it picked back up when he heard faint laughter come from the projector.

“Wot’s so funny?”

 

“I vould have zhought you’d taken zhis opportunity as a chance to vent your anger.”

“Oi can’t punch you, you’re just a talkin’ light show right now.” 

“Heh, zhat’s fair enough, I’d be pretty upset too--”

“Oi can’t hold you either. There’s no way the real you ain’t scared.” 

Sven quieted down and turned away from Sniper. 

“Oi should’ve just mustered up the strength to get to m’van. You’d be fine if I did--”

“Don’t blame yourself, zhe circumstances vouldn’t have allowed you to leave base. I just wish you veren’t in zhe eye of zhat boy.”

Sniper squinted and smiled. Jealousy then?

He closed his door briefly, taking note of the newly noticeable cigarette smoke in the hallway. 

“So on respawn, th’ true Sven won’t remember anything then, yeah?”

“Y-yes--”

 

“Maybe I can put you to some use then after all.”

“Vhat? Vhat do you mean?”

 

“Well, unlike Graymann’s finest parading about here,” Sniper whispered, barely audible, “I want Sven around. And if you’re the closest oi can get to the person I...”

The doctor’s hologram had placed his hands over his mouth in suspense and Sniper laughed in response. 

“Oh come on. You and I know very well how I feel about Doc, more or less. So you’re gonna keep me company until he’s back.”

“But Sniper, vhat if--”

“No ifs. Sven _will_ be back. It’s just a matter of time now.” 

“I hope you’re right zhen.”

“Oi’ll make sure of it. We got unfinished business,” he declared, opening his door back up. “Oi’ll be right back then.”

 

After hearing a faint okay, Sniper peered his head from out of his door, sheet train following him like some kind of bootlegged princess. Straight ahead towards the commons he squinted at the couch to verify where the waft of smoke was coming from. He couldn’t entirely process what he was witnessing at that moment. 

“Th’hell is this?”

Jürgen coughed twice before looking back at Sniper. “How zhe hell do humans consume these things? They’ll ruin my filters, and--”

“Gimme that!” Sniper pulled the rest of his sheet and whipped it onto the sofa before snatching the Medibot’s cigarette away. “Why?”

“It seemed cool,” he shrugged.

“Jumpin’ off a bridge for a bit o’ a swim seems cool too, but you don’t do it!” Sniper sighed and took a long drag off the cigarette. 

“Wot’s your issue anyway? Going through a crisis now that your maker ain’t here?”

 

Jürgen looked towards the ash-laden fireplace. The sight unsettled him further. 

“I just vish you wouldn’t hate me as much as you do. I’m only trying to help--”

“Yeah, ‘i get it.”

“Vhat?”

“Look mate,” he puffed “be less of a pain in the arse and ‘i’ll be less inclined to snipe your head off. Fair?”

Jürgen couldn’t believe his ears. “Yes, zhat’s fair,” he hummed. 

“Good.” The hunstman lifted up, putting his cigarette out. He started to strut back to his room but 180’d into a roaring fit. 

“And for fuck’s sake, get your own clothes! Oi like that shirt, so don’t mess it up!”

Jürgen chuckled, clutching onto the fabric covering him and nuzzling into it further. 

“Silly man, zhis is _my_ property now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Heehee. Four more chapters :P.


	27. Chapter 27

Six seconds.

Six seconds to race across the dusty landscape, six seconds to react to whatever explosive activity Soldier would botch the mission with. Six measly seconds to remind one's self to not decapitate that insufferable excuse of a boy.

Spy cloaked and rushed out, taking care to not rustle the earth beneath his feet, lest he leave traces of himself for his enemy to see. 

Huddled near the slag of a suffocating flame was the entity in question, and the rogue moved with precise fervor to get into position behind a series of nearby boulders.

"Merde," he exhaled, uncloaking and shoving one of the watches off his wrist. They were never designed to be worn simultaneously, but Spy figured this would provide the stealthiest pursuit. 

Spy looked back at where he sprinted from. Neither his car or Soldier were in sight--a blessing and curse. He released the thought and refocused when he heard two coughs and the mumblings of what seemed to be a troubled nearby soul.

"Fuckin' flame, where's Py when you need him. All them times he cooked up some bodies, you'd think they were kindlin' or somethin'...oh man, could that even work?"

Spy's eyes bulged as he tried to fathom what was being uttered. Did he still have the Doctor with him? 

He couldn't smell anything reminiscent of a decaying body's remnants, an odor which would have definitely carried in the wind to waft about where he hid. 

Spy activated his second watch and peered over the boulder, keeping perfectly still to observe. So as long as his movements weren't sudden, the child would never know he was there. 

"Y'kno', I can just...sell these or somethin'. They ain't even decaying! Pro'lly fetch somethin' on th'body market! An' once he's all over, he ain't comin' back here, we get a new Doc, and everybody'll be safe and stuff. 

"Yeah, I did the right thing. Fuck that crazy old man!" 

It took everything in Spy's power to suppress the urge to stab the boy where he sat. He looked back at where Soldier was supposed to be and sucked his teeth. 

"Zhe hell is he," he spat. "I don't have time for zhis, I'm going in." 

Before rising again to recloak and conquer, Spy squinted down at where he squatted and let out a faint sigh.  
There in the loosened earth he saw the echoes of his previous path. On the battlefield it would have been fine due to amplified foot traffic, but being there was a soulless child about, Spy took precautions and reached for his laces.

Upon removing the source of excess weight, he pressed his feet onto the ground and noticed minimal difference in the earth's composition. 

"Better," he whispered to himself. "Let us commence."

Activating both his regular cloaking device and his Dead Ringer, he eased from behind the rocks, walking gingerly towards the huddled boy beside the fire. 

In his view he could see the bloodied sack opposite where Scout was hovering over the flame. 

The internal struggle began. 

_"Should I grab zhe bag and deal with him afterwards?_

_"But zhen he might shoot, and I am at a disadvantage._

_"Zhen I should incapacitate 'im from behind._

_"But I will kill him. I do not care about procedure if zhat miscreant touches me."_

*Between Spy's inner deliberations, he inched closer towards his prey. Just as a ghost skating above the ground, there wasn't a trace of his being, and each step forward, his mind wrapped around the thought of snapping the runner's neck.

A far too generous death, but efficient nevertheless. It would remove any chance at redemption Pauling or Helen would grant him.

Three steps more, he breathed. His eyes grew heavy as he felt the adrenaline rise within his body, heart leaping and roaring, itching to maim the offender before him. 

Like liquid, his balisong came to life. No one would miss him. No one would even shed a tear. And his mother? Another whore who would birth another just like him.

Beneath Spy's gloves were reddened palms coloured by the grip he held on his knife, and he took another step before halting. 

"The hell, there ain't no wind or nothin' tonight. I'm hot as balls!" 

Scout rose up from his spot and turned around, just a breath away from Spy's entire body. The assassin held his breath as his eyebrows furrowed. If the boy bumped into him, he had a clear shot at his neck. His fate was sealed.

Just as the boy leaned his chest forward to move, a flare had pierce the sky right above him, red as freshly spilled blood. The colour trailed through the air, billowing before going farther into the sky.

"What the hell is that?" Scout looked around him and didn't see anything in the distance, and Spy stood stock still hoping this diversion would end soon so he could resume.

Another flare barreled into the air, this time pure white. Scout stared up as it emulated fluffy white clouds, and soon after a cobalt flare followed behind it and swirled together in the air.

"Huh. Red, white, and blue. Fuck yeah, 'merica!" Scout sang as he sat back down. 

"Wait, _America_ \--" 

Through the air was a piercing cry that wailed on longer than it should have. Spy loosened his statue-like position before looking up at the sky. 

" _Un_ believable," he chuckled softly as he saw metal reflecting out of the sky. 

"Oh SHIT, oh SHIT, _SHIT_!" 

Scout scrambled from his spot on the floor and accidentally flailed out, bumping into Spy's legs before falling back down.

"What the fu--  
" _FUCK!_ "

"Oh, you zhought you got away, did you?"

Scout's face went pale as Spy dropped his cloak, and it took him too long to snap back and search for his gun across the fire pit. 

But his reaction time was far too poor, and before they knew it Scout's cried rippled through the calm of the night, causing wild animals to leave their homes in terror.

Soldier had landed directly on the boy's legs, and bone protruded from the flesh in a clean fashion before blood started to canvas the sand. 

"You must have though you were _soooo_ smart!  
"Well I have news for you! You are in MY WORLD NOW AND IN MY WORLD YOU ARE AN UNAMERICAN SCUM!" 

Soldier whipped his foldable shovel out and banged it twice against his helmet. 

"This is the sound of VICTORY. And when I get to digging, that will be the sound of your DOOM!"

Spy couldn't help but laughing as the boy wailed. Seeing him debiliated in such a macabre manner tickled him dearly. He stepped on the boy's back and walked towards the sack filled with what seemed to be Medic's body parts. 

Not directly looking at it, he picked it up and then walked right back towards Scout. He writhed in pain on his stomach, gasping for air as he cried bloody murder. 

Two swift kicks to the boy's face came faster than the kid could react to. 

"You keep it up, and I'll give you somezhing to really cry about. Now shut up."

A small wind blew and the new scent of drying piss lingered around them. As much as he hated Sniper's contraptions, the scent was welcome from the cur before him.

"Soldier."

"Yes Spy!"

"Good work. Grab 'im, if you will. We are taking 'im back."

"Affirmative!"

Spy eased around the rocks to slip back into his shoes before relacing them. The feel of grittiness was a peeve of ages, but he could settle this once knowing it was for the best. 

"Come now, I am ready. Zhe car isn't far."

"Spy!" Soldier smacked the Scout in the face before looking back at the rogue.

"Is 'e breazhing?"

"Faintly."

"Good. Drag 'im along. Oh, and I hope you 'ave somezhing in zhat kit of yours to wrap him in, I don't want his blood ruining my car."

Soldier opened up a huge cargo pocket on the back leg of his pants and unraveled the most compactly folded flag he's ever seen.

"Soldier, zhat is sacrileg--"

"NONSENSE! America FEASTS ON THE BLOOD OF ITS ENEMIES and TODAY IT SHALL DINE WELL!"

Spy bellowed out a laugh again as the two of them walked back together towards his vehicle.

Truth be told, Spy was mildly angered at Soldier's interference. 

But the reality that he would be able to kill the boy over and over again once they were all home brought a wide grin to the man's face.

" _Oh, zhe possibilities,_ " he whispered as he looked behind him at the boy ebbing between life and death. 

His blood trailed in the sandy earth and Spy couldn't help but laugh! 

"Zhis is only zhe beginning.

_"For you, and for Sven."_

Spy opened his cigarette case and threw the picture of Scout's mother aside to reveal who he really loved, and he lit a cigarette. 

"Zhe incense of revenge," he puffed. 

The night was theirs, and soon all would be right again. 

Soon.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 

"So before you stepped out, vhat vas zhat you were about to say, Liam?" 

Unnaturally heavy footstep seemed to echo behind Sniper as he re-entered his room, and he made sure to slam the door behind him. A faint _Awww_ could be heard trailing away from his quarters.

"Sorry, wot now?"

"Don't act as if you didn't hear me zhe first time." The holographic Medic snapped his finger and proceeded to be swept under his feet by a rather seemingly comfortable Oxford-style chair. "Somezhing about Sven and zhe person you--"

"Wot'd'll you think'll happen once Sven comes back?"

"Vell, I'm right here, you know."

"You know wot I mean, mate." Liam ran his hands through his hair and tussled it a bit for comfort. "When mortal Sven respawns."

"I vould _hardly_ call us mortals anymore. Maybe demi-gods, especially myself--oh and maybe zhe Demoman as vell to be honest. Zhat liver of his is immortal right on its own--"

"Y'think he'll let me keep ya in here?"

"Vhat? Vhat do you mean."

"Well oi'm just guessing around, I mean--"

"You zhink zhat I vould remove zhis device from you once learning about everyzhing zhat's happened up to zhis point?"

"Well, would ya?" 

Holo-Sven took a moment to think. His right foot kicked at the back of his left boot until it launched somewhere off the projection, doing the same with his left foot before Sniper cleared his throat to garner his attention.

"It depends, really. If I vanted to mess wizh you, I'd leave digital me to have some fun. But if digital me decided to, vell, I don't know, _over step his boundaries_ , zhen yes, I'd remove myself in a heartbeat. Does zhat make sense?

"Of course, if the fleshened version of myself never knew about anyzhing, you'd have me wizh you indefinitely. Now vouldn't zhat be nice, mm?" 

Sniper's eyes panned to the wall. That answer was far from what he expected.

The possibilities...were tempting.

"Uh, alright then," was all he could say before recollecting his dreams from earlier. His cheeks mantled, and he quickly tucked himself back into bed and under his blanket.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you looked embarassed or turned on, Liam."

"N-No." Sniper's attention returned to the projector only to find the digitized doctor smoking a pipe in some boxers and a patterned t-shirt with various herbs, book in tow. 

"I'm actually surprised you haven't mentioned anyzhing about zhat saucy dream of yours you had either."

"Oi ain't talking about it with you."

"Is it because Jürgen vas in bed wizh you? Believe me, I watched zhe whole thing, he vas telling zhe truth. If anyzhing, you vere assaulting him."

"And you just let him crawl in and do wot he wanted then, yeah?"

"Vell, he vas unconscious charging for zhe most part anyway, so--"

"That ain't the point! Just when did Engi' have the time to upgrade him anyway with that much detail? Oi ain't never seen him put so much effort in such little time into anything loike that before!"

"Might be zhe reason why he was teeming with vigor to do zhe upgrades," Medic giggled. "Besides, Jürgen is just as much his project as it is mine. He's definitely getting somezhing out of this as well."

"Yeah, well oi'on't loike it. Besides, he looks different..."

"You make zhat sound like a bad zhing."

"It is if he's running around the base lookin' loike that! Th'hell was Truckie thinkin'?"

Holo-Sven placed his book down on another summoned table and took off his glasses. "He just looks like I did vhen I was younger, I don't see vhat zhe problem is."

"Of course _you_ don't Doc," Sniper huffed as he suffocated himself with a pillow. He felt his own body heat permeate off his face as a chill ran through his body.

"He's a bloody distraction--"

"Vhat vas zhat?" 

"He's a DAMN DISTRA--" Footsteps paced outside his door before fading off again. "A damn distraction," Liam whispered. 

"So let me get zhis straight. You don't vant zhe Medi-bot around because he's attractive--"

"Will you shut yer hole? Th'walls here are thin as paper!"

"Vell zhen zhe whole side of zhis wing heard you loud and clear vhen you told me in your dreams to don't stop sucking your co--"

" _Alright_ , that's _enough_ , oi can wait for Sven's return in silence!"

Three loud bangs rapped on the door. Sniper seized his conversation and looked at Holo-Sven, who shrugged and looked back at him with a quizzical expression.

Easing out of bed, Liam rose and opened the door ever so slightly before being pushed back into his room. 

"OI! Now listen here, ye impost'rous, glitterin' lightshow! Yeeee don't make fun 'o my lad Sniper here, or i'll blow y' inta bolt soup!"

The intrusive Demoman turned around with one watery eye locked onto Sniper's own. "And to see him suffer like this, oh, I didn't even know y'had the hots fer the Doc--Oh! _Oh!_ I _did_ know, I just didn't know! Spy had mentioned somethin' o' the likes I think." He downed another gulp of his scrumpy and nodded confirmation.

"Aye, that he did. That. He. Did." 

Sniper just stood in silence as the explosives expert made himself comfortable in his room. He never thought anybody would find out about himself and the Doctor--besides Spy or Engineer--but apparently the Spy had been spreading the news about. 

"Oi'm gonna kill that snake," Liam muttered to himself. "Demo, I..."

"Ah, y'don't need to explain anything lad. It's fine! Pretty sure just about everyone here agrees he's sorta handsome...at least until we realized how bat shit crazy he is--"

" _Ahem_ \--"

"Oh, ssh! Say, who built this anyway?" Demo got up from his spot to investigate the handiwork of the elaborate projector. "This ain't Engi's doin', that's fer sure."

"Oi ain't realize y'could tell his work just by lookin' at it."

Demo's cut his eye at Sniper before scratching near his eyepatch. 

"Everybody's got their own flair, boyo. If y'told Hard Hat to make a bomb with the same spefications--"

"Specifications?"

"There's the word--as say, the formula used in my double barrel launcher, he'd make it a different way, and we'd know it! Same goes for the big guy and his ballistics--he'd whip up somethin' different himself."

Demo turned his attention to the extrapolated sass man . "So I take it this was yer doin' then, yeah?"

"Yes, Demoman, zhis is my original design. It is obviously a prototype," Medic snipped back. 

"Pipe down lad, it's good work. Really good actually, Doc."

"Oh? Vell, zhank you. I vanted to make it so ve could communicate vizh ozhers who vere going through respawn--"

"So I was thinkin' Sniper," Demo interrupted, throwing Holo-Sven into a mild tantrum "if ye really are serious about gettin' the Doc to show ye some attention, y' gotta be more forward wit' 'em when he gets back!" 

The Scot made nothing of Sven's virtual doppleganger shooting digital crossbow bolts at the back of the man's head.

"That probably ain't such a good idea--"

"Non _sense_! 'Ey Nurse--" Demo turned about, ignoring the Doc's actions completely. "So, ye're Sven pretty much, right?"

"Vell, yes, sort of. Zhere are a few major character errors when processing his genetic code and his memories, but--"

"That's good enough! So I take it ye both ain't together yet 'cause of it bein' work 'n all, but we ain't gettin' any younger! Ya gotta chase love to the far ends o' the world if ye have ta, because if ye don't, it'll just get swallowed up by ol' Nessie into the depths of the sea, and then--" Tears started to well in Demo's duct and Sniper watched as Medic contorted his face in awkward horror. 

"And then there'll be nothing left but a sorry hole in yer face and in yer heart you can't fill because you were too busy not being able to SEE right in front of ye the BEAUTY of having BOTH YER EYES!" 

What started as small sniffles amplified into a full-out bawling, dressed with extra drinking and regret to dampen Sniper's mood even further.

"Mate, try and get some rest, for the love of god."

"It's not like I don't want ta," he sniffled as a small bit of mucus dribbled down his nose. "But I see it every night, the same thing over and over and--"

 

Mad hollering from outside startled all three parties in the room. They looked at each other and were sure it was Soldier, and their suspicions were confirmed when they heard an explosion, followed by a faint vibration on the ground.

"Oh," Demo straightened up. Had his onlookers not him witnessed just moments earlier, they would have never known he was crying, let alone distressed. 

"Soldier's back. I'm gonna go out there and greet 'im." 

"Yes," Medic uttered, "You do zhat..."

With the removal of the Demo, Sniper looked back up at Medic and then flinched. "Wot you lookin' at me loike that for?"

" _Oh mein Gott!_ Zhey got him! Li--I uh, Sniper, get in here quickly!"

The huntsman glared at the Medic in the room before leaping off his bed and rushing out into the common area. All the commotion could only mean one thing, he thought.

He watched as Spy trailed in through the doors of the base with a bloodied burlap sack in tow. Sniper's face paled.

"Is that," he murmered. Through Soldier's commotion, the rest of the team members had come out from their quarters to witness the trail of blood Soldier had left. He dragged about a body, flinging its lifeless remains about without remorse.

" _Oui_ , it is Sniper. Zhat is zhe boy. We captured him earlier on. I almost killed 'im, but 'e's passed out due to blood loss."

"In you go!" Soldier took the kid and threw him into the respawn room. The boy was so blue, it was hard to tell if he was actually alive. His limp body sat inside the room, tainting the pearl white floors of the sterile atmosphere.

Sniper watched but redirected his attention towards Spy.

"Oi don't care about the kid." 

The assasin gently rested the bag beside him before lighting up a cigarette. They both looked at one another knowing the nightmare wasn't over just yet. Marbles for eyes, Spy looked down at the bag and sighed before puffing and picking it back up.

"One moment, Sniper."

Words were quietly exchanged between the Spy and Engineer, who, by the looks of it, was clearly asleep just minutes ago. 

After some quieted discussion, Engineer rubbed his eyes, nodded, and raised his hand to grab everybody's attention. 

Miraculously, it worked.

"Now, you all listen here. Right now we've been running the amplified respawn machine for roughly 48 hours. Spy here has...what's left of the Medic. In theory, it should be enough to respawn him, but because it took so long, there's still a small chance he won't come back." 

The team watched as Spy made his way into the respawn room, sack in tow. He kicked aside the boy into a corner and placed the bag full of Medic's parts gently onto the now blood-smeared floor.

The rest of his teammates just stared when Spy didn't exit the respawn room. 

Jürgen eased beside Sniper and clasped his hands tightly. 

"Zhis is probably just as hard for Spy as it is for you, you know."

"Yeah. They're close friends."

Jürgen glanced at Sniper before observing Spy once more. 

"I don't zhink you get it, Sniper."

" Don't get what?"

"Oh, nevermind, it doesn't matter." 

Sniper glared as the Medibot jogged over to meet up with the assasin. Upon exiting the respawn, Spy summoned a cigarette and lit it before raising an eyebrow at Sven's robotic clone.

 

"It seems Engineer has put in some work," he whispered. "You look good."

"Ah, vell...I just look like Sven, heh."

"Zhat's exactly my point." Spy looked Jürgen straight in the eyes before sighing and taking another drag. "I'd razher keep you close zhan kill you now." 

"I...you...uhm...vell! Heh, heh..."

"Relax, now iz not a good time as you can see, but when Sven returns, you can call upon me whenever you need me, and I will come."

 

Sniper looked at them from the side and cringed at the sight of Jürgen getting flustered. 

"Spook!" He barked out to interrupt the whispers between them. Just looking at them talk so close made him a bit uneasy.

Spy gave the other half of his cigarette to Jürgen before walking over to Liam.

 

"What is it, Bushman?"

"Oi just wanted to say...thanks. Oi planned on goin' out ta find the kid, but--"

"It is fine. As much as I hate to say it, you should be zhanking Soldier more. It seems he has a knack for trapping rodents." 

"No kiddin'."

They looked over to find Soldier re-telling the events that transpired earlier.

"AND I SAID TODAY IS THE DAY I BECOME AMERICA'S EXTERMINATOR BECAUSE I SQUASHED THAT SCOUT LIKE THE BUG HE IS!"

Heavy, Pyro, and Demoman ate it up entirely too much, trying to find some joy out of the situation. Engineer was off to the side tinkering with the respawn amplifier a bit. 

 

"It's always difficult," Spy murmured, barely audible. He walked towards the windows and stared at the darkness before him. "Every time I see 'im go zhrough respawn. I don't trust zhe technology 'ere, despite zhe brilliance zhat is abundant 'ere."

Sniper followed behind and accompanied him in silence. 

"I understand we are just Helen's playthings most of zhe time, waging zhis ridiculous war for no particular reason at all.

"I get zhat sometimes we must work with zhose who are zhe most annoying individuals on Earth, or who are just zhe absolute worst, despite how pitiful or desperate zhey are." 

"But all zhe negatives in zhis world could not weigh down zhe good zhat man 'as done for me all zhese years." 

Sniper didn't tear his eyes away from the voided night sky, but from the corner of his glasses he witnessed the manifestation of sorrow dampening the cloth of Spy's balaclava. 

"Surely you know zhe feeling too," Spy continued, pacing his words with care. "Surely you can zhink of nozhing else, no one else as caring and warm, behind zhe quirkiness and passion zhat makes Sven who 'e is."

In a swift motion, Spy clutched at Sniper's neck and jerked him close. 

"Zhis would 'ave never happened 'ad you not been zhe one 'e was so focused on!"

Before Sniper could interject, he was shoved away again, and Spy fiddled with his disguise kit for a cigarette.

"Zhe boy killed Sven because 'e was too close to you. He snapped, I imagine. Probably saw zhings 'e wasn't meant to see, because zhat is what zhat stupid child does.

"Let me be clear Sniper. I am not your enemy, despite everyzhing zhat has 'appened so far. But know zhis." 

Spy started to fade as cigarette smoke wafted around Sniper.

"If Sven returns, and you put 'im in harms way again, I will personally see to it zhat you die.

"Now excuse me, I 'ave some special torture devices zhat need upkeep before zhe boy returns. Remember what I said, Liam."

Sniper rubbed his neck as Spy's last words echoed in his mind. Just like that, he was gone.

"Damn Spook," was all he could muster before trodding back to his room.


	29. Chapter 29

"Ka-BOOM!"

"Well, lookie there."

Balls of compressed shrapnel exploded into stars, moons, and the occasional silhouette of a racoon's face.

"This is the BEST display of victory I have witnessed yet!" Soldier lifted another ball and loaded it into his launcher without delay.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself there...but you really should put some of these glasses on."

"Oh, don't even worry about him lad. He can barely see anything already with that soup bowl on his head."

"I can SEE everything! I can FEEL everything too!" Engineer shook his head as Soldier lifted his bleeding arm to show him some of the nicks and newly nestled pieces of metal in his arm. 

"Aye, I dun think Camper's gonna come out here though."

"Well, I wouldn't much either without a hard hat--"

Demo swatted away an incoming projectile from entering his good eye and grunted. "No, I _mean_ I don't think there's anything to get him out of that room, except when he decides he needs somethin' from his van." 

Engineer made a similar noise, slightly disgusted by the truth of it all. He palmed at another sphere before chucking it to Soldier.

"He's gotta come out eventually. It's been three days since Spy put Medic through respawn. His body has disappeared, so I can only hope that our contraption's working hard to refabricate him, though it is taking much longer than anticipated."

"Respawn was acting up anyway before hand, don't f'rget," Demo consoled. "Besides, it's out of his power, He's got 'ta know that much."

"The boy's still feeling responsible. And they were, uh,"

" _Close_ friends?" Demo wiggled his eyebrows, and Engineer cheeks puffed up with air. "Yeh, I know about them two."

"Well, hell, surely you understand then, right?"

"This one looks like that Medibot's head!" Soldier interrupted.

The two men looked up as best as they could at the scrapshow before them. Dead enemies turned into toys were always an enjoyable downtime treat.

* * *

Jürgen stared at his teammates' escapades from inside the base, partially entertained and partially concerned.

"Liam, ve should go outside! Engi' and zhe Demo are using my cousin's dead parts as a source of haphazard enjoyment!"

"Oh, yes, cause zhere's no chance of anybody harming anyzhing out zhere with metal flying about. Absolutely no research fodder outside for Jürgen at all!" Holo-Sven pulled out a nail file and stared intently at his robotic self.

"For someone programmed from me, you'd zhink zhat you vould know zhat's not my reason for going down zhere."

"I may be zhe third iteration, but deep down I know vhat gets all us medical professionals going. It's just too bad ve combined can't figure out how to make ol' long face over zhere feel a little better."

 

"Three days now," was all Sniper could say before turning over on his bed.

His disheveled hair was only trumped by the massed sleep in his eyes, unmoved by incremental sobbing and sniffling.

"Sniper," Jürgen whined out, trying to nudge the huntsman from his bed. "Zhis isn't healthy!"

"Oh, leave him be. If he vants to die for Sven, ve can save his parts and let him go zhrough respawn--"

"Are you kidding me?" Jürgen whipped around and wagged his finger at the projected fool. "And put even more stress on zhe respawn? It's bad enough zhat Spy has zhat child going through it every three hours or so!"

"Can you blame him? I mean, look at vhat he's done to us. Spy's just coping in zhe best vay he can. He's hurting just as bad, if not even vorst."

The Medibot pulled another blanket from Sniper's closet and returned to Sniper's bedside. 

"I...get zhat, but still, he's coping selfishly!" A swift hand had pierced into the crevasse that was Sniper's armpit.

But Sniper didn't even flinch, let alone fight, or budge.

"His temperature's low," Jürgen whispered to himself. He started to place the blanket on Sniper, but it was shrugged off instantly. 

"M'hot," Sniper droned off.

"Ugh, I can't take zhis! Do you have any auxillary monitoring units you can watch him wizh?"

The blue light flickered twice before steadying out again. "I'm equipped minimally. But is it vorth it? I mean, look at zhose legs! Let zhem zhrough respawn, so we can have two pair!"

"You're zhe vorst! Just monitor him, I'll be right back."

 

Jürgen grabbed Sniper's jacket and threw it over the depressed before heading out towards respawn to wait for Spy's inevitable return.

* * *

"Fuck...you...

"No, please..."

Hacked up blood seized the next words from recognition.

" _Please_? You wish to please me? Well, lie zhere, keep quiet, and do as you are told!"

Spy jabbed his knife deep into Scout's calf, tugging with two hands against the only viable muscle the boy had. Blood oozed then spewed over his leather gloves, and the cuffs on his fine tailored suit absorbed all the liquid they possibly could.

The shrill and apical cries were cut short as Spy loosened his own tie to noose it around the boy's neck. 

There probably would have been flailing if the boy's legs weren't completely destroyed. Scout's eyes grew glossy again, but that didn't stop Spy from tightening his grip on the neck tie before yanking the knife out of the boy's left leg to carry on with the right.

By the time his jagged incisions were complete, he dropped the tie to the ground, resulting in Scout's head plopping onto the concrete floor. 

Spy wiped his face, accidentally smearing blood all over his cheek and his lips.

A cigarette was most certainly in order.

"Hallo?"

Spy heard the uncertain steps of an unexpected visitor coming from a vent located above his captivity room.

"I know you're around here, my receptors detect zhe scent of blood and cologne!"

Spy looked around the grey box that served as his private reconditioning chamber. Windows weren't present, of course, and the only light source was a gas lamp hailing from an era just as medieval as his methods.

On the wall were some bolted pieces of climbing metal leading straight to the vent. Jürgen's voice echoed clearly through the hole. 

"Your receptors are very keen, Docteur."

"Spy! Vhere are you? Ve need to have a talk!" 

The assassin moved closer to the light on the floor to blow out the flame.

"Hold tight, I am coming up now."

 

Although Jürgen had initially made his way to the respawn room, he found himself wandering around the base in search of Spy's secret bunker. Faint whimpers could be heard coming from a low vent in the locker room, so he waited patiently for Spy's arrival. He looked around at the gaudy yellow tile and equally distasteful shower area. Doing a quick retinal scan sent the poor Medibot into a squeamish rage.

"Zhere's enough filzh in zhere to create a new life-zhreathening virus."

"Well, if zhat's zhe case, perhaps you should collect samples."

Startled, Sven's semblance turned around and knocked his head into Spy's before bumping back into some nearby lockers. 

"So close! And zhis," Jürgen touched where their heads met and found his fingertips coloured with blood. "Zhe boy just died again zhen."

"Oui," he whispered. Spy's focused on his discomforting mask and the stickiness of Scout's ageing cruor.

"Look, I understand _vhy_ you're doing vhat you're doing--"

"Killing zhe Scout?"

"Yes, killing zhe Scout, slowly und painfully, but its seems you have forgotten about how stressed zhe respawn already is wizh trying to respawn Sven."

Spy removed his gloves and walked around Jürgen towads one of the lockers. He grabbed a towel and what seemed to be a bar of soap before passing by him again.

"Tell me, you have most of Sven's memories, non?"

"Vell, yes, but it's not like I just remember zhem. I normally have to focus on somezhing in particular, und take it from zhere."

"Go ahead and scan your data for my face so I don't 'ave to keep zhis zhing on."

"If I have it in my memory banks already--"

"I'd razher you see it before hand before I step into zhe shower. Protocols and what not. Go on, I'll know when you've seen it."

Jürgen's silent whirring meant a deep scan was taking place, however his flattened expression and lack of enthusiasm couldn't have been made more apparent.

"I don't understand vhy you don't just do vhat you need to do. Besides vhat if-- _Oh mein gott_!"

The Medibot's face illuminated red at all the images popping up of Sven and Spy. His onlooker was tickled at the sight.

"Zhe Engineer installed red lights around your cheeks and face? Zhat's quite cute."

"Spy, vhat are you to Sven?!" He cried out, clutching his face.

"Just a patient, a project, I presume. You can look zhrough zhe data later. I just needed to make sure you've seen me--"

"Are you sure Sven and you aren't somezhing more?! Zhese images are--oh!" 

"Don't overheat looking at...whatever you are looking at. I will _not_ carry you to zhe Engineer." Spy moved past Jürgen again, who actually took a seat to brace himself as the barrage of images and clips of Sven and Spy heavily flirting in his office, in their private quarters, out at bars, and literally everywhere else flitted before him. 

His cheeks were at maximum brightness by the time he got to select scenes with Sven and the Frenchman close as they could be. After work hours, it seemed Spy would come down and give Sven back massages as he tackled paperwork. A few times those touches escalated into rough groping and intense sexual displays-- far more than Jürgen could handle. Every time Sven would get touched during the replays, Jürgen's own receptors tingled a little, expecting to feel the same. 

A quick pluck to the forehead was the strongest sensation, as Spy had snapped the Medibot out of his internal scan on Sven's memories. 

"Are...you well? Jürgen?" 

Coming to his senses, the bot shook his head and noticed Spy had prepared himself for cleansing. 

"Vell, if I'm being perfectly honest, no..." His eyes veered upward to find a rather fetching persona normally veiled behind concealing attire. As Jürgen simmered on the sights, Spy shed his clothing, replacing it for a towel wrapped around his waist. "I don't understand, really."

"Don't understand what? Zhe boy needs to pay for his crimes. I will continue to kill him until Medic returns or Helen directly tells me to stop."

"Zhat's not vhat I was...Oh, nevermind zhen. Just stop sending him through respawn until Sven returns!"

"No."

"Zhat's selfish! Don't you want to....want...to..."

The Medibot found himself having slight processing issues as he watched Spy drop his towel aside to begin showering.

Right before the water started rolling down Spy's body, Jürgen found himself burning the bloodied Spy into his memory. Something about the dried remnants smudged all over his chest and legs made his improved chassis a few degrees hotter.

Red on bare skin did something for the Medibot, and it took some hefty throat clears and shouts to stabilize his attention.

"Honestly, you're hopeless."

"Huh--Oh, shut up Spy!" He turned his full body towards the wall and crossed his arms across his chest as tight as he could.

"Docteur, come here."

"N-no! It's wet in zhere--"

"You are not waterproof?"

"Of course I am! But I'm not getting my clothes damp--"

"Just come here," Spy snipped. His elevated tone was enough to summon the other party into the moist atmosphere.

 

Jürgen's emotional experiences thus far merited anger and confusion, sadness and empathy. But there was something particularly captivating, mesmerizing--intoxicating even--about the bathing man before him that he couldn't quite figure out.

Small streams scurried town the contours of Spy's body, and although it was rude to stare, there was an unabashed vulnerability made present and available. 

This was exclusive to Sven as Jürgen saw in the many vignettes stored in his memory. And now, the bot could get a taste of the bond between both the true Doctor and the man before him. 

It was far too exciting, quite surreal, but the Medibot promised himself that Spy's trust must never be peculated, and always cherished for the rarity that it was.

 

As he walked toward the now refreshed man, Spy called to him once more, only softer than before.

Lured in by the depth of Spy's voice like a sailor at sea, the assassin had grabbed Jürgen's shoulders, pulling him in and pressing himself closer to the ever-warming robotic ally.

"I know what you meant zhe first time." He shrouded his voice in a comforting veil. "Our situation was made difficult by me."

The Medibot tried to pinpoint exactly how Spy wrapping his arms around his neck made his processing hazy, but he couldn't object to this novel feeling he was experiencing.

" 'ow unfortunate zhat I was too much of a coward to ask for you to remain zhis close to me."

Spy's beryl gaze locked onto Jürgen's pulsing spheres and soon tears fell uncontrollably.

"I couldn't do anyzhing to save you, Sven," he hissed, vicing his arm around the other's neck.

"Oh, don't...no, no, please don't be so hard on yourself. You tracked zhe Scout down, und brought him back home."

Jürgen's clothing were drenching as Spy pulled him closer to his exposed body. He tucked his head into Jürgen's chest as the tears streamed faster. 

"I would do anyzhing for 'im, and somezhing as simple as keeping tabs on zhe enemy, I could not do. It's disgraceful."

Spy looked up and saw nothing but Sven, and the raw emotion left him winded with pains in his torso. He eased his arms downward to clutch around Jürgen's sides.

Unsure what to do, or how to properly feel, Jürgen didn't move an inch. Discomfort seemed like the appropriate feeling to have, but he was far too comfortable, and far too attached now to Spy to just send him away. 

But Spy's hold on him triggered a flash in his mind and he looked down with worry at the assassin.

"Zhe...Sniper and I...we are different, zhat is for sure," Spy murmured, clutching around his waist tighter than before. "But we have both failed you, and zhe thought alone is killing me.

"You don't have his scent, but...your looks, and zhe things you say...

"And you're soft and warm like 'im too."

Jürgen's mind whirred and whizzed. He couldn't just stand there, no matter how confused or saddened he was at seeing Spy so broken up. He had to do something, hell, _say_ something.

"You know," he started, doing what he thought was most natural, "Zhe Sniper isn't handling himself eizher. He's lethargic, und his appetite is virtually non-existent. 

"I know you...extended yourself to me Spy, but...for zhe most part, I'm tending to zhe Sniper's side. However, if, you truly... require me, you know vhere to find me." The water from Spy's body was absorbed by Jürgen's attire, and the Medibot reveled in the cool sensation and feel of Spy being so close to him. 

In all honesty, he wished the wet layers of clothing between them were removed entirely. He rather liked the texture of human skin upon his own. 

"Well, you're 'ere now, Docteur. So help me and let me show you what I should have done from zhe very beginning."

Spy's hands ascended up Jürgen's body until they gently cupped his face.

"So warm," Spy whispered into the Medibot's ear. "Give me thirty seconds now, and another thirty when Sven returns."

"V-vhat for." Sounding strong in the face of weakness seemed to be one of the traits Jürgen lost during Engineer's meddling, and he internally cursed the Texan for the inevitability.

Jürgen processed each light squeeze Spy had given him, each tug on his body that brought them closer, each breath he took as he watched Spy's own cheeks start to flush.

"So, a moment of your time?"

"S-sure, I suppo--"

The softened lips of Spy lightly pecked onto Jürgen's own, planting themselves there for a few moments before peeling away.

The excessive analyzing and thinking came to a complete halt.

The sensors on his lips tickled in a delightful manner, and it seemed the sensation ebbed away as soon as it was activated. 

Jürgen briefly wondered what it was like when Sven did all those things with Spy--what being held by the neck felt like, or how being grabbed by the hair could ever be enjoyable. 

But with the combination of what Spy offered through these...small bits of tissue that allowed words to pass, and barred food from escape...Jürgen understood the power and magnitude that lips possessed.

And he wanted more.

"Again," he huffed out, hazy at the sensations jolting through his circuits. He couldn't get enough, and his lidded eyes locked onto Spy with a strong need.

"But of course." Spy cupped the back of the Medibot's head and combed his hand through his hair, sending a light shock to Spy's fingertips.

"Ah...sorry," Jürgen sighed, slipping back into euphoric stupor. 

"Just a little shock? I hope you don't electrocute me for zhe next ten seconds zhen."

Before he could reply, Spy had met his lips again, only this time with more passion and fervor than before. Jürgen let Spy do as he pleased, and in an instant, a more graphic and intense image of Sven and the man before him popped up in his mind.

In that moment, he knew _exactly_ what to do.

With no warning but a light grunt, Spy was pushed back against the wall, with the chill of the tile smacking his rear.

One hand was pushed firmly on Spy's chest while the other made sure to trap the man from any means of escape.

The Frenchman couldn't contain himself--a small squeal and a slightly painful erection presented themselves before the newly aggressive Medibot.

"Yes, I zhink I will give you a jolt. Let you remember who I am." 

Spy's eyes widened as the Medibot tilted his head and pushed his body against his own.

"Docteur, you--"

"Shut up und just kiss me." 

Spy hadn't hesitated again. He obeyed and found himself pleasantly surprised at what Jürgen had for a tongue. As it swirled around the assassin's mouth, minuscule surges of energy sent tremors through Spy's body, and the electrified kisses did a number on his self-control.

When their lips broke again, and Jürgen pulled a small string of saliva from Spy's mouth, Spy chuckled, snapping a newly embarrassed Jürgen back to his normal demeanor.

"Mm, it seems that my time--along with myself--is up." Spy looked down and then back up at Sven's doppelganger. "For a moment zhere, I zhought--"

"Zhat I vas Sven?"

"No," he whispered, turning the cold water back on in the shower. 

"Zhen?" Jürgen took a few steps back. Despite not entirely wanting their moment to end, he really didn't want to get fully wet. 

"For a moment you 'ad me fooled. I felt as if you were truly interesed in me. But I suppose I'm a bit unstable, forlorn, and unable to cope."

"Claude, I--"

Spy whipped his head around and Jürgen covered his mouth. 

_Where did zhat come from?_

"So you've scanned deep enough to know my name? Zhat's a very, very, old memory. I only told him once."

Jürgen continued to stare at the Spy dumbfounded. 

He never found a memory where Spy explicity uttered his name to Sven.

Something was off, wrong.

"I--"

"I like it."

"Vhat?"

"Call me zhat whenever we are alone. It's been so long since someone's called me by my true name."

Spy sighed and looked down again before quirking an eyebrow in peevement.

"Just when you zhink you can will zhese zhings away," he mumbled. "Mm. Much appreciated, Jürgen. I will have to make zhis up to you at a later time."

"J-ja. No problem. But--"

"You should go. I won't 'ave much time before someone else comes in 'ere and sees me, and I really need to take care of zhis." He clutched onto the hilt of his cock and gave it a quick squeeze. 

Jürgen's cheeks lit ablaze again at the sight. 

"Oh, don't do zhat, or else I might do zhings zhat'll burn out zhose bulbs of yours. 

"Besides, you have a Sniper to tend to?"

"Oh!" was all the Medibot could say. He knew he had a responsibility, but the sight before him made it difficult to just turn around and leave.

"Tell you what," Spy started, quite focused on mildly stroking himself. "I'll stop sending zhe boy through zhe respawn so often. But 'e will continue to die. Iz zhat fair?"

"Y-yes, zhank you."

"Good. Now go on, before I pull you in here. Zhe cold water isn't even helping me right now."

"Ah, vell, let me just..." Jürgen started to turn away towards the door and looked back at Spy, who was now fully focused on bringing himself to satisfaction.

Jürgen whirred internally a bit, deleting some miscellaneous memories Sven had to make room for what he saw before him. 

He wanted to be able to watch it later, as much as he liked, even if was just a brief few seconds.

With his newly acquired footage, he closed his eyes to hear Spy moan out ever so softly before leaving the showers and locker room altogether.

* * *

Still flustered, Jürgen internally played the clip over and over again of the Spy in his head, and he compared it with other memories Sven and the Spy had together. 

Slight sounds of moaning and mewling tickled Jürgen immensely, but there was a gagging noise that seemed a tad bit out of place. 

He stopped his mental playback and actually realized it wasn't from the video. 

Surveying the area proved to host nobody nearby, but that noise was coming directly from the respawn room.

A mildly concerned Jürgen walked towards the noise. As he neared it, there seemed to be another--this one only slightly more discernable than the other.

_"...du verdammnt hosenscheisser..._

_"Schweinebacke..._

_"...und Liam!..._

_"...Das geht dich einen feuchten Scheissdreck an..."_

Jürgen nearly tripped over himself as he picked up his pace to the respawn room.

As he looked inside, his face grimaced then beamed with delight.

"Sven?"

Apparently, the Scout had respawned early, but with Medic's tie viced around the boy's neck so tight, he didn't stand a chance against the wrath of the reborn.

"Sven!"

With the last few breaths leaving the kid once more, Medic dropped his tie and looked up and outwards. 

"Oh. Jürgen. Hallo!"


	30. Chapter 30

"Vhen....how long...vhen did you respawn?! Are you--you don't look so good, actually!"

The true doctor stepped over the dead body to exit the respawn room, tripping over himself a few times on his way out.

He didn't look as fresh as one would normally appear after bodily reconstruction, but rather tired and winded. 

"Vell, you're quite zhe astute one. Zhis is vhat happens when you're thrown out of boundaries, die, and zhen try to respawn again I suppose. Ugh, my legs are like gelatinous sticks...I'm going to need some muscular rehabilitation."

Jürgen nodded at Sven, taking mental notes as he did a quick check-up on his maker. 

"I zhink just resting underneath zhe Medigun beam vill do zhe trick--"

"No, I have somezhing stronger in zhe back room, specifically for zhese kinds of incidents. It's a prototype, but I zhink if I mix zhe two formulas, I should be fine--"

"Zhe Medigun formula?"

"No, zhat's not going to work. My Quick-Fix blend is stable for usage wizh experimental healing and effects, so zhat's vhat ve will use."

"Okay. Vell, here, come here, you look like you're going to fall!"

"I just took zhe time to _greet_ zhe Scout, I zhink I can--" Sven's footing failed him on cue, and Jürgen was right there to catch him before he fell.

"Ah, zhank you...Oh, look at zhis!" Medic brushed his hand against Jürgen's arm in curious delight.

"Vell, it just dawned on me you appear human. Engineer really out-did himself zhis time around. I kind of wish he waited zhough to upgrade you--"

"It vas more so out of necessity zhan anyzhing else." 

The Medibot started walking with Medic down the sloped corridor going towards his office. Sven would cut his eyes to the side from time to time to further analyze the handiwork that was Jürgen. 

He was truly impressed.

"It's like I'm looking at myself vhen I vas younger, heh."

"Ah! Yes, zhe Engineer said it vould be best if I looked a little younger zhan zhe current you to help with zhe Sniper's acclimation to robotic beings."

Medic winced at a newly forming pain and sighed. 

"He doesn't know I've respawned yet, right?"

"Nobody does, I hadn't any time to summon anybody!"

"Good. Let's keep it zhat way for a little while. I vant to talk to you anyvay."

The Medibot nodded as they approached the doors. Jürgen set Medic to rest against the wall while he fetched the Med Bay key. 

"Come, Doctor. Up, up."

Sven waved off the helpful bot before tripping over air again.

"So stubborn. Get up on zhe gurney, and I'll get your prescription ready."

* * *

"Hm, zhat bot should have been back by now. I need to be relieved of babysitting duties so I can read zhis new issue of 'Appendages Weekly'. Zhe black market isn't going to come to me."

A low groan and grumble could be heard from the bed, and the Holo-bot exhaled.

"Sniper, you really need to get up and eat somezhing already. I'd stuff it down your throat, but I'm currently in zhis corporeal state. Zhat's probably better for you anyvay; you'd be long dead and teeming wizh energy if I had my way.

Still silence.

"Unless, of course, you're dead already."

Any fidgets or normal movement characteristic of Sniper had seized, and the Holo-bot put his magazine down to analyze as best he could from the distance.

"Sniper? Liam?"

Mild worry could be heard in the hologram's cracking voice. He stood up and pressed his hands against the air, imprisoned by his own design.

"Liam!" 

A slow roll over and furrowed brows greeted the yeller. "Wot Doc? Can't you see I'm trying to rest?"

The projected Medic sighed and plopped back down on his chair, reclaiming his magazine. "Get up and eat already."

"M'not hungry." 

"Ugh! Fine!" In a split second, the light radiating from the pyramid disappeared. Liam closed his eyes, uncaring that his personal Medic had shut himself off.

However, unbeknownst to him, the digital Medic was busy paging Jürgen with extreme urgency. 

"Oh come on, receive zhe connection already," he hissed to himself.

 

Down in the Medical Bay, Sven was undergoing intensive body recouperation treatment on the main operating table. A soft, lilac and lavender-scented beam soothed the doctor's pains and discomforts, and Jürgen diligently took notes on every reaction, every flinch, and every heave of satisfaction brought about from the trials. 

"Zhis particular gun charges really slow, Doctor."

Sven rolled his head to the side and grunted. "Ja, it's not as concentrated a formula as zhe approved ones." His speech was starting to slur, and Jürgen scribbled down on his clipboard more notes to Sven's chart.

In the back of his mind, a beeping noise looped over and over and over again.

Jürgen wanted to ignore the sound completely, but found it unbearable. The insisting ringing in his head was too much.

"Ah, Medic, I'm going to slow zhe rate of the charge. I have to take zhis call."

"Call?" 

Jürgen huffed at the mental absense of his patient; the effect of the Quick-Fix mix was almost as bad as healing from an augmented Kritzkreig.

The Medi-bot batted his eyes twice and ended the insufferable noise within his head, only to be greeted with nagging and sass.

"Hey zhere, Mister I'll-be-right-back! Vhat, you zhink I'm supposed to vatch him all day zhen, yes? Zhe Sniper looks like he's on his death's bed, and I can't do much from a distance here--"

"Sniper vill be fine. He'll come to after I finish my work down here--"

"Zhe only way he's going to get out of zhat bed is if Sven marches zhrough zhose doors, or if his body gets picked up by respawn--"

"You're so dramatic! Besides, Sven is down here with me right now."

"Vhat?! And you didn't tell zhe Sniper anyzhing? _Anyone_ anyzhing?"

"He needed an emergency procedure right out of respawn, zhere wasn't any time for zhat. However if you can convince zhe Sniper to get out of bed and come down here, zhen I'm sure it'll be okay. Just know zhat zhe Doctor is a little...out of it."

"Vhat, is he unconscious? Disfigured? Respawn screwed him up zhat bad?"

Jürgen looked over to side, watching Sven twirl his finger around the purple beam, singing a song to himself in German.

"Possibly. Who knows. Anyvay, see if you can get him down here. Ozherwise, he can wait, and I can tell him along wizh zhe other mercenaries later." 

"Vhatever, I'll do vhat I can, but don't expect much, he's barely breazhing as it is."

Jürgen clicked his tongue and ended the transmission. "Your personality's so multi-faceted, Doctor."

"Vell," he slurred on, "I vas into acting vhen I vas back at home. But zhat didn't pique my curiosities zhe way zhis work does now." 

"I'm sure," the Medi-Bot chuckled, re-adjusting the compounded Quick-Fix. "Are you ready? It's fully charged, und it should take roughly 10 seconds."

"Ja, I'm as ready as I can be."

With a quick tug, the gun emanated a concentrated perse beam that hovered around Sven's body. The scent of wildflowers wafted throughout the room, and spread throughout the entire Medical Bay and into the vents leading to other places throughout the base.

* * *

Spy pulled a pipe from his mouth as he released smoke through his nostrils. He sat cozily in front of the hearth in his personal chambers, looking through dossier files of yesteryears. 

Between the remnants of tobacco smoke lingered a floral aroma seeping through a small slit in the corner of his room.

"Zhis scent," he noted to himself. He rose from his chair, tossing his files aside on a table to exchange them for a watch. Moments later, the permeating smoke was no longer discernable from his sudden disappearance.

As Spy exited his chambers, his first instinct was to head down towards the infirmary to check on Jürgen. Only the Medibot and himself were individuals possessing knowledge on the location of Sven's prototypes, along with how to access them.

Instead, he decided against intuition for a change and made his way to the respawn room to retrieve his prisoner for another round of well-placed castigation.

"Zhe hell?" Spy squinted at the sight of the respawn doors. There were small hand prints on the glass, smeared downwards. The assassin's eyes traced the smudges until his own eyes dilated at the sight of a freshly dead boy on the floor.

He moved towards the body, kicking it to see if there was any vigor present. Shrugging at the conclusion, he bent down and looked around the room. Clues were entirely absent, save for the one colored piece of cloth tied around the runner's neck.

"Zhis..." was all Spy could get out before lifting it to get a closer look. It was a normal solid blue tie, but there were only two men on the team which actively wore neckwear to work. Upon flipping the back of the accessory, Spy's doubts were cleared, as a small cross emblem appeared on the underside of the tie. 

It was indeed Medic's.

It was Sven's. Sven had returned.

Spy decloaked and dropped to the floor, nearly choking as he coughed out, laughing in an erratic and nervous fashion. 

Breathing was a little difficult, as the shock of his secret beloved's return granted him asylum from the endless thoughts of him never existing again.

After recomposing himself, he rose and straightened his suit, juggling whether or not he should run to Sven or to the team first. 

He already pieced together nobody else knew except Jürgen, else there would be a big commotion in the common hall.

"Knowing Jürgen, he's wizhholding zhe announcement of Sven's return for a reason," he confided in himself. "Zhere might be a complication zhen."

His mind spun around the worst case scenarios and shuddered. Permanent paralysis, disfiguration, inability to speak--Spy could feel himself heating up with uncertainty.

As he walked from the respawn room down towards the Med Bay, he stopped right in front of the Doctor's office as his biggest fear crossed his mind. 

"What if he has amnesia?"

He pressed his hand against the door, pulling it away to make a fist. 

Whatever happened to Sven, and whatever condition he was in, Spy would make it his business to remind him every day the reasons why they were as close as could be.

Despite deep breathing and internal attempts to placate oneself, Spy was frozen with fear.

"Come now Claude, zhere are worst zhings zhat could 'ave 'appened here," he mumbled, giving himself a much-needed pep-talk. "Just go in zhere, and assess his condition, and act according--"

The door before him eased open, and Spy's eyes started to tear as he looked to Jürgen for a report.

"Oh, Spy, I knew you'd come here first." The Medibot moved to turn away from the door, but the Frenchman clutched onto the automaton's wrist.

"Is he--"

Jürgen put up his free hand to silence the worried before pointing over to the cot Medic was on.

"He's recovering from an experimental charge. You can watch zhe procedure if you like, but I cannot be away from him for too long. I need to gazher as much information as I possibly can."

"Of course, Docteur." 

The Medibot rolled away, reclaiming a clipboard from the Doctor's desk before planting himself beside Sven to assess and scribble notes.

Spy eased the door shut and slinked towards the other side of Sven to gaze upon his visage. Despite everything he's been through, the doctor looked completely relaxed. But Medic's small fidgets that Spy usually picked up on weren't present and worry washed over the Frenchman's conscience again. 

"He...is in a coma?"

"Do you normally assume zhe worst, Spy?" Jurgen chuckled, but soon after sighed. "He's not unconscious, he's just asleep."

"Oh, I...see." 

A few more notes were scribbled down, but Jürgen feigned most of his fervent note-taking. In place of words were quick, anatomically-exemplar sketches of Spy. Grief was plastered over the man's face, stress revealing itself through darkened eyes and small wrinkles peeking through his mask. 

Eventually it pained Jürgen, and he could no longer actively record the expressions of what seemed to be the lowest of moments in Spy's career.

"Don't vorry," was all he could muster, rising to Spy's side. He hesitated, but soon followed through with placing his hand on the assassin's shoulder.

"I can't help it. Believe me, I'm trying."

"Honestly, I do zhink he'll be fine. He just needs to recover."

"Was it because 'e was in limbo for so long?"

"Perhaps. Or zhe fact zhat he over exerted himself more zhan he should have _after_ being away from respawn limits for such a prolonged period of time. 

"I actually zhink zhat Engineer's contraption was a heavy factor in his recomposition."

"I suppose I owe him a zhank you then."

"Vell Spy, I zhink we all do."

"Helen will also be pleased."

"Oh? I don't ever remember Sven getting along wizh zhe Administrator zhat well--"

"He hates her. But she will be happy because she doesn't have to recruit and retrain anozher field medic." 

Spy's shoulders dropped and he reached in his pocket for a cigarette before moving towards the door. He wouldn't dare sully the air Medic breathed ever again.

"Und vhat about you, Spy? Vhat happens after he wakes up?"

Reaching for the door handle, Spy cut his eyes at Jürgen, eager to size him up. "What do you mean 'what happens'? Zhings will return to normal as zhey should be."

"You know exactly vhat I mean." 

"Zhat's not up to me, now is it?" 

Before the Medibot could get another word out, plumes of smoke emerged and the door was left ajar. 

Moving back to the Medic's side, Jürgen stared down at the resting doctor, contemplative about what would happen when he finally woke. Based on some of Sven's latest memories, it seemed Sniper was his most important case study...which meant there might have been room to exclusively work on Spy's condition. Jürgen was lucky Spy wasn't around to make fun of how red his face became. 

"Vell, zhat works out for me zhen, I suppose."

* * *

"Nrr wrr." ( _No way._ )

"I'm telling ya Py', there ain't nothing more satisfying than bustin' out a self-automated lawn chair on the sandy battlefield while watching your enemies blow into small giblets due to a barrage of four heat-sensing rockets."

"Rr drrnt knrr abrrt yrr, brrt srrtrrn rn r prr rr wrrm grrsrrrn rnn r crrd drr rs thr brrst!" ( _I don't know about you, but sitting in a pool of warm gasoline on a cold day is the best.)_

Engineer took a sip from his beer and fanned away the Pyro. 

"Heh, get out of here!" 

Three huge raps on the door seized their conversation, and Engineer placed his malt down to drag his workshop door open. 

"Spy?" 

" 'e 'as returned." 

Engineer squinted at the lanky man before removing his goggles in awe. "No kidding! Well, heck, this is....this is alright!" 

Pyro stared at his palms, passively listening to Spy and Engineer trade more details about the Medic's revival. 

"So, was he alright? Did it work out okay?" 

"It seems zhere were some minor complications, but zhe Medibot has been tending to zhe Medic's side for quite some time now. I just came back from zhe Med-Bay to make sure 'e would be able to work by tomorrow." 

"Is Helen riding your ass about this? She bothered me a few hours ago, but I didn't pick up the phone. Thorn in my side, that woman." 

Spy scoffed. "You know how she is." 

"Well then, I guess we better tell the others. Py, come on, let's go spread the news." 

"Drr rr hrrv trr?" ( _Do _I_ have to?_ ) 

Engineer's expression sank a bit before he pounded his fist into his palm. 

"Nah, I got this. And we'll celebrate tonight too! Matter of fact, I bet Soldier can rush out with Demo and get some more beers, we're pretty low." 

"I find zhe Demo going out to retrieve any type of alcohol is an extremely dangerous endeavor for all parties involved." 

"Well, I could always set up a teleporter," Engineer smiled. 

"Do whatever you need to do. I need to speak wizh zhe Sniper." 

Just that fast, the warmth from Engineer's smile drained cold. 

"He alright?" 

"Well, I hope he should be after I tell 'im zhe news." 

The Texan's head cocked in skepticism. "Now don't be getting into a fight with Stretch." 

"Not my intent zhis time around, rest assured. We are all tired, and 'e is probably just as exhausted as I." 

Engineer stewed over Spy's answer before crossing his arms across his chest and nodding. 

"Well, fine, but just--" 

"I can handle myself, mon ami. You need not worry." 

As Spy disappeared into smoke once more, Pyro lit his mini-flamethrower and glared at the door. 

"Them Spy types are weird as hell. Why's he cloaking just to go right down the hall?" 

Pyro shrugged and followed the stocky man out anyway as he laughed his way out of his workshop to spread the good news. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I thought this was gonna be 31 chapters (30 + Epi), but I forgot something important I needed to tackle, so I need a couple more chapters after all. 
> 
> Definitely almost done though, thanks for sticking around :). Stick around for some shameless promotions too of other work, lol.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which honesty cock blocks tender moments.

It was in the middle of the night when Sniper stuffed his pillow over his head to stifle the incessant knocking at his door.

He didn't want anything to do with anybody, and if another one of his teammates told him he needed to eat something one more time, he vowed he'd send them through respawn himself.

He shuddered at the thought though.

Much too soon.

The pit of his stomach churned despite its emptiness, with raw negativity in his mind warping his innards to twist and bend. He couldn't bring himself to put on pants, let alone roll out of bed even if he wanted to.

Every so often he swore he could hear the shrill cries of a traitor pleading for help through the walls. Part of him wanted to watch. Part of him wanted to inflict the misery. 

In better circumstances, the trading of blows on the runt with Spy would've been entertainment for Sniper, and he would have reveled in the opportunity to avenge Medic.

But these were not better circumstances.

A flicker of blue illuminated the darkened room, followed by a hefty clearing of the throat.

"Sniper, Jürgen is trying to contact you. It's important, he said he would be up here in a bit."

No reaction.

The holographic Medic sucked his teeth and shut himself off again. There was no getting through the hopelessness that was Liam.

\--

A few more hours passed before two faint knocks made contact with Sniper's door.

He groaned, of course, hoping that whoever was bothering him would piss off already. But instead, the door creaked open, ever so slightly, with a shadow shifting into the room and closing the door behind them.

Liam turned towards his wall and stared into it. No he wasn't okay, no he didn't want to consume anything, and no he didn't want to talk about anything regarding this entire manner. He was already queuing up further 'no' responses in his head when the edge of his bed depressed and a new source of warmth crept around him.

He pulled himself closer towards the wall, curling himself up into a taut ball like a petrified armadillo. If that wasn't enough to deter whoever encroached upon his space, he wouldn't care any further, but remain impassive and ignore it, just as he had actively ignored everything and everybody else.

Within the minute, the warmth was gone, and the bed reset itself to the feeling of just himself in it. Sniper sighed mentally, grateful that he was being left to himself for a change.

But whoever was within the room with him seemed to be making an awful amount of noise, with sounds of cloth dropping to the ground, followed by unlatched metals being placed on a nearby surface.

No, Sniper wasn't alone just yet. The depression on the side of the bed returned and was further complimented by an entire shift in the bed that angered Sniper to his core. The warmth--no matter how inviting--wasn't welcome. 

And as it crept closer and closer to Sniper, he went for Plan B, deciding to simply ignore whatever was happening. He figured this disturbance was his punishment anyway for not being at his van to ultimately save Sven from an untimely demise.

Tears had started to form and the sniffles followed right behind. He wanted to curl himself into nothingness, but a firm yet gentle pull on Sniper's waist prevented that from happening.

"Jürgen, so help me," Sniper rumbled, giving first and final warning, "if you want to see the light of day, you'd get off me."

In utter defiance, Sniper was pulled in even closer, and a nuzzling on his neck had commenced, with particular hair play at the nape of his neck. 

No matter how comforting, he wanted no more of it.

Just as Sniper was about to buck, a soft "Ssh" hushed into his ear, and it froze him solid in his wake as he processed it all.

 _The air was warm, organic,_ Liam thought. He focused on the hand that rested on his hips and noticed too they were warm, and a little clammy. 

_Then the damned Spy's messing with me--_ he stopped his train of thinking upon realizing there were no remnants of cigarette smoke, no heady scents of the rogue's cologne. 

After trying to piece together whether or not Engineer actually found the time again to upgrade Jürgen once again after all, the possibilities in Sniper's mind had floated away with a faint chuckle in his ear followed by a tight squeeze, and a slight press against his bum that warranted his attention.

"Stop crying already Liam. Everyzhing worked out. I'm tired zhough, so let me just rest like zhis for a moment..."

_No way._

"...Sven?"

"Mm?"

Sniper's body started to tense up, shaking and shivering ever so mildly before he broke out into a bawling slew of tears and snot. 

And Sven was smiling, right there, holding him through the whole of it, whispering to him that everything would be okay.

\--

"I didn't realize you missed me zhat much," Sven laughed, twirling his fingers in Sniper's unkempt hair. "Zhis is unhealthy though; I don't condone zhis self-abuse."

Sniper finally turned away from the wall after spilling another wave of tears to make sure he didn't cry for his health.

With a less than graceful roll, softened blue eyes met his own, and he nearly started up again.

Sven could see the grief in Sniper's ever-swelling eyes, and he scooted his body up on the bed just enough so he could hug Liam into his chest.

"You're zhe biggest kind of softie, you know zhat?

"But if you need to hear it, I most certainly missed you too."

"Oi thought y'were gone." Liam's voice was on a tightrope, teetering between joy, relief, and sorrow. Still wound up and tight, Sven cuddled even closer to the fretful and hugged him as best as he could on his side.

"Vell, if I'm being perfectly honest, I still don't understand how I'm here right now."

"Soldier and Spy went out t'find...y'remains right after the kid fled the base.

"And Demo and Engineer were working hard on fixing up the spawn so you could come back faster...or, oi guess at all.

"And Pyro helped keep Jürgen in working order..."

Sniper's eyes looked away from Sven's face before emitting a guttural groan of resignation.

"Though, most of y'recovery's thanks to Jürgen. He actually...he ain't that bad," Sniper trailed off.

"What vas zhat, mm?" Liam teased, pinching Sniper's cheek in jest. "Somezhing about zhe Medibot zhat wasn't an insult or a threat to disassemble him?"

"Lay off a bit, will ya?

"Look, oi'm not scared of _'im_ in particular no more, 'specially since he's just an alternate version of ya.

"But there's no trustin' nothing that comes out of Graymann's ship up there!"

"Zhat's fair enough...zhough you can't deny vhat ve have here."

"Wot y'mean?"

"Progress," Medic chimed, now fiddling with the tips of Sniper's ears. 

Sniper grunted in agreement before his eyebrows started to sink. His scowl confused Medic, and the doctor retracted his free hand from Sniper, waiting for an explanation.

"Y'didn't have to drug me f'that. 

"Y'know, oi had some time to think about th'whole situation, and oi think y'didn't pump me full of sedatives to keep me from going out, did you?"

Medic pulled his body away from Sniper's, placing himself as far away from him and as close to the edge of the bed he possibly could.

"Zhat vasn't the most ethical or...professional vay to go about securing somezhing I vanted." Sven's voice was mousey, almost non-existent, and he clasped his hands together in nervousness.

"Y'do that shit again mate--"

"It...it caused a lot more trouble zhan it vas vorth, zhat's for sure. I von't do it again wizhout your permission first."

As Medic apologized, Sniper lifted a hand to cup Medic's cheek, rubbing his thumb against the supple skin. It was incredibly warm; _he_ was incredibly warm for the nature of conversation and just idle resting. 

He lifted his hand just above the Doc's face to find heat oozing from him like a bonfire in the night.

"Y'alright? Y'burnin' up."

"I..." His eyes darted away towards the pillow, hand covering his mouth.

"Wot is it? Talk to me Sven."

"I vas selfish. It got you hurt and me killed...Zhough I don't entirely feel...as sorry as I should."

"That don't surprise me. You'd cut me open if oi'd give you th'okay."

Medic's hand clutched onto Sniper's arm in raw excitement. "You vould let me?"

"N-no," Sniper started before catching himself staring at Sven's neck and lips. "Oi mean, maybe for somethin' important--"

Medic pulled himself back over to Sniper to steal a long, drawn out kiss filled with faint moans and a ravenous tongue riddled with desire. Liam couldn't even remember the last time they kissed.

And then he remembered moments like this were exclusively available in his dreams. 

He relished the reality, and interlocked his legs within Sven's, wishing that was enough to keep them together for as long as they both willed it. 

"I don't regret it," Sven huffed as he pulled away, love drunk and high off growing lust. "I'd do it again, you looked so good, and I figured you vould just _touch_ me already if you vere just a little out of it und not brooding about it."

Sniper tried to wrap his head around the now handsy man before him. Liam always wanted to see an unwound Doc, mainly because he pegged him to be just as unhinged as he would be in bed, just as tenacious and hungry as he was in his dreams. But Doc's words had finally clicked together, and he gently pushed Sven aside.

"Y'drugged me because you wanted to make it easier t'sleep with me?"

Whatever trance Sven had wrapped himself in ceased at the shaken voice of the man before him. 

"I..."

" 'n'then, you'd say you'd do it again? Ain't no different than goin' t' a bar and getting slipped something shonky."

Medic reverted his hands and legs to himself, averting Sniper's gaze entirely.

"Y'need t'go."

"Vha--Liam, I--"

"Out. Go rest in y'own room."

"Liam, vait, let me--"

"Don't make me say it again," Sniper snarled out. 

 

Medic would have lied if he said Sniper's low growls of anger didn't excite him, but it were these proclivities and kinks that got him and everyone around him in trouble to begin with.

As the Doctor shifted from the bed, Liam turned back towards the wall, listening at the sounds of Sven redressing himself.

Right before opening the door, he looked back at the Sniper, terrified this was the last time he'd get to see him in such an informal manner. 

"I didn't vant to lie to you," Sven whispered, voice seismic and pitchy. "But I didn't vant to scare you avay eizher."

"Oi'm glad you're back, Doc," the broken voice mumbled.

"Now get the hell outta m'room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W-Wait...I can explain myself...
> 
> ...writer's block? No, that doesn't work anymore, no matter how true.
> 
> No, actually, Overwatch. Overwatch distracted me, along with work, musical projects, and a (goal-reached) Nanowrimo project, so...in regards to this, might as well git'er'done now.


	32. Chapter 32

As Sven slinked out of Sniper's room and back to the hall, a billowing of smoke swirled about the entrance, wafting every which way, with its point of origin remaining hidden. 

"I don't vant to talk to you," Medic spat, turning away and walking back towards the Med-Bay. 

However the rough invisible tug on his shoulder started to flesh itself out again, the sleek black leathered hand whipping the doctor around to face him.

Medic stared in awe before looking around him frantically.

"Your mask!" He started, before the lanky digits of the Spy stifled any new noise from emerging by pressing them carefully across the doctor's pout.

Spy squinted his eyes before cocking his head in a "this way" motion.

Medic complied, paranoid for the Spy that one of the other teammates would see him without his balaclava. His existence on the team revolved around keeping crucial secrets, and his identity was the hugest one--had the Frenchman forgotten this in his absence? 

 

The Spy had led him to an abandoned section inside the base that Medic hadn't even known existed before. It was dank, musty, and infested with cobwebs, with pipes tinted with rust and various equipment yellowing with age due to neglect. Paint that once was blue barely held pigment as it peeled itself away from the walls, and the furniture that still held function was tattered and caked in dust. It was almost to the doctor's liking, but the floor to ceiling windows alongside the wall made the space quite unbearable--it was much too bright. 

Judging by the layout of the space, Medic's eyes lit up as he surmised this space was the old common area. He sighed, dejected that the space wasn't something more exciting like an operating theatre or a rehabilitation chamber. The experimental possibilities racing through his mind lifted Medic's spirits ever slightly before coming back from his imaginative high.

A quick slam of the door and Medic whipped around to find the Spy was nowhere to be found.

He closed his eyes and huffed out, not prepared to play any sort of head games with the man.

There was a tug on his lab coat again, terse yet gentle, and it led him to a corner in the forgotten room, close to a wall whose tears from prior water leaks stained it brown.

Without warning, Medic was shoved against the wall, hitting the back of his head. The moment he opened his mouth to protest, his lips were assaulted, a tender ferocity which felt pent up, desperate, and needy. 

The Spy was still cloaked, but he was on the Medic everywhere, hands roaming his sides, desperately trying to get them closer. As Spy's tongue fished about in Sven's mouth, his hands were busy caressing his neck and squeezing his waist, and the doctor had never felt so conflicted.

 

Did he want this to stop?

 

Liam could barely look him in the face, and even when he was able to look the Sniper in the eyes, he was cast away for being honest with both him and himself. 

But here, with Spy breaking off their kiss to suck upon his neck, here he could just _be_.

Spy knew _exactly_ what he was, _who_ he was. They had been through so much together, and there was little, if anything the Spy didn't know about the Medic wriggling beneath him.

 

A wandering hand had found its way on Medic's belt buckle, and it took him entirely by surprise.

"Claude--mmph, vait," he pitifully called out, trying to gain control of the situation. But clouds plumed around the medicine man before revealing a chiseled face with icy eyes that elicited shivers down the man's spine.

"Twenty-six times," Spy hummed on the doctor's neck before lavishing it again with attention. 

Medic wanted to ask what that number signified, but all he could get out was a less than dignified whimper before rapidly trying to take in breaths of air. Spy knew his weak spots, and the man wasn't going to stop giving them attention anytime soon.

"I was 'oping to send him zhrough zhere a few more times before you came back. But I should have known you would 'ave gotten 'im at least once in between my trips back to zhe respawn."

 

"You," Medic barely made out before Spy's tongue reeled along the side of his neck. The doctor's pants were tightening quickly, and Spy's hands juggled between combing through the man's hair and groping his thighs, fingers emitting a pleasing pressure on them. 

"You've been killing him all zhis time? Using--" A sloppy kiss was stolen, bottom lip sucked on and toyed with before Spy moved to the other side of his neck. "Mmn--Zhe resources, I could've been back sooner."

Spy pulled away for a moment and looked Medic square in the eyes. If it wasn't for the hand simultaneously roaming along his backside, the doctor might have thought he said something wrong. 

"Nobody was sure.

"I almost lost you permanently to some...pitiful child with no self control. Forgive me if my initial reaction was to cause 'im as much bodily harm as possible zhese last few days."

Medic just stared in awe at the flushed man before him and in that moment he started piecing everything together. 

_Spy_ was the one who rushed off to find his body.

_Spy_ was the one to bring him back.

_Spy_ was the one who avenged him over and over and over again.

And _Spy_ was the only person who was consistently there for him over all the years working together, despite unhealthy personal situations and petty friendship squabbles.

 

Medic hadn't any idea with what to do with his hands when Spy first threw himself onto him, but soon enough they found their way around the assasin's neck, pulling him in closer.

Everything about this suddenly felt as natural as it could be, like something that was supposed to happen a long time ago, but was denied time and time again.

 

Spy beamed as he rested his forehead on Medic's, chuckling ever so lightly before reaching for the doctor's chin.

"I almost lost you," he whispered, mouthing over Medic's lips, brushing them against his own to send shocks of tingles throughout the doctor's body. "Yet, here you are, _mon amour_. I would not lose you again."

 

Before Medic could utter a response, Spy had lowered his head to kiss about his clavicle, peppering smooches along his clothed chest and stomach until he hovered just below the unfastened belt from earlier.

"You look good like zhat," Spy hummed. Medic clutched onto the man's shoulders as if they were his life support, bottom lip tasting slightly metallic, seeing he bit down far too hard in anticipation.

"Let me start to catch you up on everyzhing I 'ave dreamt about doing with you, to you, up until zhis point."

 

Medic thought Spy was going to get right into it, but he just remained below, looking up to the doctor for something, a sign-- _consent_?

 

Sven's heart was fit to burst as he looked down at the Frenchman before him. He always joked about his lady-killer looks, with well-defined cheek bones and a genuine smile that could melt even the most frigid of souls when revealed. But to see him like this, so fixated and dedicated, awaiting the okay in a display of submissiveness polar to his usual demeanor..Medic could only nod and laugh before covering his face in an equally uncharacteristic moment of shyness.

His heart throbbed as hard as what Spy eased into his mouth, and Medic braced himself as the wetness and warmth embraced him. It felt so good, he clutched at the surface behind him in desperation, accidentally peeling and littering bits of the wall around him to reveal pristine white plaster beneath it.

"Claude," was all he could fathom before releasing a moan loud enough to fill the room. 

 

This felt better.

This seemed right.  


* * *

  
  
Time was something of an enigma for the huntsman these days, with seconds turning into hours of wallowing about in bed.

He wanted to blame this sedentary feeling on Sven's abrupt absence, that sole beacon of hope in his dark times. He had sort of come to know and cherish the man, most quirks and all.

But he was back, and the first thing he did was shun him out of his bed and out the door. 

 

Sniper heard the man when he apologized. It sounded sincere enough, like he would try to work on his terrible habits to the best of his ability for the sake of them.

But then he said he didn't regret it. 

That alone was enough to leave the man seething with excess anger well beyond what was warranted.

 

Did he even want this to work? Did he truly care? And what the hell else would he do for the sake of what he wanted?

 

Sniper tossed and turned on his bed, fuming at the prospects of a man who potentially deep down couldn't care less, and still saw him as a lab rat before a lover. 

There were a few knocks on the door, and Sniper was too through. Why people didn't let him hole himself in his room to figure out his feelings escaped him completely. 

 

He threw his blanket over his head and pretended to be asleep. 

Still, his door opened and closed briefly, and a dragging of a chair grated against Sniper's ears before coming to a halt.

 

"Ah...can I, uh...talk to you, herr Sniper?"

 

Liam let his eyes roll before launching the top half of his blanket back from his head before turning to the Medibot.

"If Sven sent you, you can tell him to piss off roight about now--"

"No!" Jürgen looked upon Sniper with initial fear that graduated into a pitiful gaze. "I came here because I wanted to ask you for your advice on some zhings..."

"Advice? Th'hell you need help with?"

 

Sniper leered at the Medibot who twiddled his thumbs in pensive thought. Whatever was eating him seemed to strike a nerve within Liam. He didn't like him looking _that_ pathetic.

 

A quick huff and a couple of turns later and Liam's feet were planted solid on the ground, arms resting upon gangly legs.

"Wot is it? If it's the kid, good riddance, he's caused enough mayhem for an eternity."

 

"I vant to love somebody else, but--"

 

Sniper tossed his head and threw his hand up at Jürgen to seize his statement.

"Oi'm gonna stop you right there--"

 

"Just listen!" 

Jürgen's elevated voice left Liam at attention, with a forcibly renewed interest in whatever had the bolt box so riled up. He lowered his hand and raised his eyebrow in question.

"Go on then."

 

The bot clutched ample parts of his attire into his fists before frowning. 

"I don't vant to be your burden. I know you don't care for me, I get zhat.

"Really, I vant to just rid zhese strange, irrational sensations I get every time I see you. I just vant to do my job to zhe best of my ability to aid you, but I just can't.

"Zhere are zhings I see...from Sven's memories, his dreams? Oh, zhey're so good, but zhey don't do me any good because you just don't vant zhat.

"And so I've been trying to shift how I feel, deleting memories of Sven's and supplanting zhem wizh my own so I can better be of use to you, und zhe team. 

"I'm just some creation of Sven's, just an electrical...tool to you, but I just vant you to _try_ and see me as somezhing more zhan a talking battery pack!"

 

Jürgen's rising passion lifted the scowl from Sniper's face and supplanted it with one of deeper understanding. 

 

"I just," Jürgen trailed off, clearly exhausted with his own thoughts, "I know I vas mainly created to help Sven around zhe base, but I was also erected to help you. But how can I do zhat if you've never even given me zhe chance?"

 

The Medibot's eyes dimmed so low, they were almost completely switched off. It was enough to make Liam uncomfortable with himself, and soon he found himself uttering words without thinking first.

 

"C'mere."

 

Liam extended his arms open, beckoning the Medibot to sit beside him on the bed.

"No, see, zhis is what I vas talking about. I shouldn't have come here, I'm just burdening you wizh--"

"Will you pipe down and just get over here?"

 

Jürgen's mouth hung agape as he moved from the wooden chair to Sniper's side.

He sat on the edge of the bed, taking care to not brush up against any part of Liam. 

But Sniper pulled him in by his side with one arm, clutching onto his shoulder as he sighed.

"Oi'm sorry. Y'just try'na help, 'n this whole situation's been th'bloody worse of things."

"I-it's fine. I just..." Jürgen squeezed his shirt tight enough to leave wrinkles.

"Wot is it?" 

"Should I just give up on you?"

 

The question afflicted Sniper more than he thought it would. 

Hearing it churned his stomach and tensed the muscles in his arms. He didn't like the sound of that, words of his dismissal.

Perhaps it was the loneliness dictating his ill-planned responses, but Liam took both Jürgen's shoulders into his hands before planting a curt kiss upon his forehead.

"Just shut up and stay like this for a while. Stop worrying 'bout everything when all's gonna be alright."

"But zhe Spy--" He started, intending to let Liam in on the other man's offer.

"Nevermind the Spook, or anybody else roight now, even Sven." He let Medic's name roll of his tongue, a doleful attempt to suppress recollections of their previous spat. "Just focus on me, 'n oi'll focus on you for now, 'kay?"

Jürgen nodded, chassis starting to fill with warmth as Sniper pulled him in for a proper embrace. Despite the lack of bathing, the hunstman's musk was one to remember, peppery and earthy, with a strong bite on initial inhalation of his scent.

"Zhank you," he hummed, grateful for Sniper's evolution over these past few days.

 

"Listen," Sniper murmured into Jürgen's ear, " 'm gonna give you some advice." Liam pulled away from the hug to rummage around under his pillow for something.

It wasn't long before he pulled a single cigarette and matchbook from the depths, but as soon as it was in position to be lit, both items were smacked from Sniper's hand. The open flame bounced on the floor dangerously close to runaway bedding pooled beside his bed, and Liam looked to the Medibot, pissed and ready to fume.

"I hate zhat Sven and Spy smokes, it's bad enough."

"Y'could've set this room ablaze--"

"Pyro is just down zhe hall, und I would never place you in any harm intentionally. I vasn't kidding vhen I said I think I lo--"

"Alright! Oi get it," Liam interrupted, unsure of how to feel about the fuzzy feeling blooming with Jürgen's last statement. "Hell, you have no filter. Truckie wasn't kidding when he said you'd turn out to be someone different than Doc, just didn't think it'd be this soon."

"Vell, soon enough I'll be zhe superior choice." Jürgen's cheeks illuminated the dark room, and Liam couldn't suppress a smile even if he was paid to.

"Oi doubt that entirely," he dismissed, playfully shoving the newly flexing bot off the bed.

 

But beneath their moment of childish fun, Liam was absolutely scared.

Worried, even, that if the Medibot was different than Sven, without all the malicious tendencies and crazy ploys to manipulate his body...

 

He shook his head and stopped his train of thought.

 

"Do wot makes you feel roight." His voice barely carried any bass, but Jürgen heard.

"Mm. Zhen I'll work towards making us inseparable. Could you imagine vhat you could do wizh a pocket medic like me? Oh, zhe possibilities."

 

Sniper's gears started churning overtime, and he quickly took to wrapping his body back in his blanket, losing himself in licentious thought.

The possibilities, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh yes. Writing these little moments brought me great joy because it was bound to beeeeeee


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, something was weird with the formatting after the first part. I fix'd'dedded it, my bad >_

As Sven slinked out of Sniper's room and back to the hall, a billowing of smoke swirled about the entrance, wafting every which way, with its point of origin remaining hidden. 

"I don't vant to talk to you," Medic spat, turning away and walking back towards the Med-Bay. 

However the rough invisible tug on his shoulder started to flesh itself out again, the sleek black leathered hand whipping the doctor around to face him.

Medic stared in awe before looking around him frantically.

"Your mask!" He started, before the lanky digits of the Spy stifled any new noise from emerging by pressing them carefully across the doctor's pout.

Spy squinted his eyes before cocking his head in a "this way" motion.

Medic complied, paranoid for the Spy that one of the other teammates would see him without his balaclava. His existence on the team revolved around keeping crucial secrets, and his identity was the hugest one--had the Frenchman forgotten this in his absence? 

 

The Spy had led him to an abandoned section inside the base that Medic hadn't even known existed before. It was dank, musty, and infested with cobwebs, with pipes tinted with rust and various equipment yellowing with age due to neglect. Paint that once was blue barely held pigment as it peeled itself away from the walls, and the furniture that still held function was tattered and caked in dust. It was almost to the doctor's liking, but the floor to ceiling windows alongside the wall made the space quite unbearable--it was much too bright. 

Judging by the layout of the space, Medic's eyes lit up as he surmised this space was the old common area. He sighed, dejected that the space wasn't something more exciting like an operating theatre or a rehabilitation chamber. The experimental possibilities racing through his mind lifted Medic's spirits ever slightly before coming back from his imaginative high.

A quick slam of the door and Medic whipped around to find the Spy was nowhere to be found.

He closed his eyes and huffed out, not prepared to play any sort of head games with the man.

There was a tug on his lab coat again, terse yet gentle, and it led him to a corner in the forgotten room, close to a wall whose tears from prior water leaks stained it brown.

Without warning, Medic was shoved against the wall, hitting the back of his head. The moment he opened his mouth to protest, his lips were assaulted, a tender ferocity which felt pent up, desperate, and needy. 

The Spy was still cloaked, but he was on the Medic everywhere, hands roaming his sides, desperately trying to get them closer. As Spy's tongue fished about in Sven's mouth, his hands were busy caressing his neck and squeezing his waist, and the doctor had never felt so conflicted.

 

Did he want this to stop?

 

Liam could barely look him in the face, and even when he was able to look the Sniper in the eyes, he was cast away for being honest with both him and himself. 

But here, with Spy breaking off their kiss to suck upon his neck, here he could just _be_.

Spy knew _exactly_ what he was, _who_ he was. They had been through so much together, and there was little, if anything the Spy didn't know about the Medic wriggling beneath him.

 

A wandering hand had found its way on Medic's belt buckle, and it took him entirely by surprise.

"Claude--mmph, vait," he pitifully called out, trying to gain control of the situation. But clouds plumed around the medicine man before revealing a chiseled face with icy eyes that elicited shivers down the man's spine.

"Twenty-six times," Spy hummed on the doctor's neck before lavishing it again with attention. 

Medic wanted to ask what that number signified, but all he could get out was a less than dignified whimper before rapidly trying to take in breaths of air. Spy knew his weak spots, and the man wasn't going to stop giving them attention anytime soon.

"I was 'oping to send him zhrough zhere a few more times before you came back. But I should have known you would 'ave gotten 'im at least once in between my trips back to zhe respawn."

 

"You," Medic barely made out before Spy's tongue reeled along the side of his neck. The doctor's pants were tightening quickly, and Spy's hands juggled between combing through the man's hair and groping his thighs, fingers emitting a pleasing pressure on them. 

"You've been killing him all zhis time? Using--" A sloppy kiss was stolen, bottom lip sucked on and toyed with before Spy moved to the other side of his neck. "Mmn--Zhe resources, I could've been back sooner."

Spy pulled away for a moment and looked Medic square in the eyes. If it wasn't for the hand simultaneously roaming along his backside, the doctor might have thought he said something wrong. 

"Nobody was sure.

"I almost lost you permanently to some...pitiful child with no self control. Forgive me if my initial reaction was to cause 'im as much bodily harm as possible zhese last few days."

Medic just stared in awe at the flushed man before him and in that moment he started piecing everything together. 

_Spy_ was the one who rushed off to find his body.

 _Spy_ was the one to bring him back.

 _Spy_ was the one who avenged him over and over and over again.

And _Spy_ was the only person who was consistently there for him over all the years working together, despite unhealthy personal situations and petty friendship squabbles.

 

Medic hadn't any idea with what to do with his hands when Spy first threw himself onto him, but soon enough they found their way around the assasin's neck, pulling him in closer.

Everything about this suddenly felt as natural as it could be, like something that was supposed to happen a long time ago, but was denied time and time again.

 

Spy beamed as he rested his forehead on Medic's, chuckling ever so lightly before reaching for the doctor's chin.

"I almost lost you," he whispered, mouthing over Medic's lips, brushing them against his own to send shocks of tingles throughout the doctor's body. "Yet, here you are, _mon amour_. I would not lose you again."

 

Before Medic could utter a response, Spy had lowered his head to kiss about his clavicle, peppering smooches along his clothed chest and stomach until he hovered just below the unfastened belt from earlier.

"You look good like zhat," Spy hummed. Medic clutched onto the man's shoulders as if they were his life support, bottom lip tasting slightly metallic, seeing he bit down far too hard in anticipation.

"Let me start to catch you up on everyzhing I 'ave dreamt about doing with you, to you, up until zhis point."

 

Medic thought Spy was going to get right into it, but he just remained below, looking up to the doctor for something, a sign-- _consent_?

 

Sven's heart was fit to burst as he looked down at the Frenchman before him. He always joked about his lady-killer looks, with well-defined cheek bones and a genuine smile that could melt even the most frigid of souls when revealed. But to see him like this, so fixated and dedicated, awaiting the okay in a display of submissiveness polar to his usual demeanor..Medic could only nod and laugh before covering his face in an equally uncharacteristic moment of shyness.

His heart throbbed as hard as what Spy eased into his mouth, and Medic braced himself as the wetness and warmth embraced him. It felt so good, he clutched at the surface behind him in desperation, accidentally peeling and littering bits of the wall around him to reveal pristine white plaster beneath it.

"Claude," was all he could fathom before releasing a moan loud enough to fill the room. 

 

This felt better.

This seemed right.

* * *

Time was something of an enigma for the huntsman these days, with seconds turning into hours of wallowing about in bed.

He wanted to blame this sedentary feeling on Sven's abrupt absence, that sole beacon of hope in his dark times. He had sort of come to know and cherish the man, most quirks and all.

But he was back, and the first thing he did was shun him out of his bed and out the door. 

 

Sniper heard the man when he apologized. It sounded sincere enough, like he would try to work on his terrible habits to the best of his ability for the sake of them.

But then he said he didn't regret it. 

That alone was enough to leave the man seething with excess anger well beyond what was warranted.

 

Did he even want this to work? Did he truly care? And what the hell else would he do for the sake of what he wanted?

 

Sniper tossed and turned on his bed, fuming at the prospects of a man who potentially deep down couldn't care less, and still saw him as a lab rat before a lover. 

There were a few knocks on the door, and Sniper was too through. Why people didn't let him hole himself in his room to figure out his feelings escaped him completely. 

 

He threw his blanket over his head and pretended to be asleep. 

Still, his door opened and closed briefly, and a dragging of a chair grated against Sniper's ears before coming to a halt.

 

"Ah...can I, uh...talk to you, herr Sniper?"

 

Liam let his eyes roll before launching the top half of his blanket back from his head before turning to the Medibot.

"If Sven sent you, you can tell him to piss off roight about now--"

"No!" Jürgen looked upon Sniper with initial fear that graduated into a pitiful gaze. "I came here because I wanted to ask you for your advice on some zhings..."

"Advice? Th'hell you need help with?"

 

Sniper leered at the Medibot who twiddled his thumbs in pensive thought. Whatever was eating him seemed to strike a nerve within Liam. He didn't like him looking _that_ pathetic.

 

A quick huff and a couple of turns later and Liam's feet were planted solid on the ground, arms resting upon gangly legs.

"Wot is it? If it's the kid, good riddance, he's caused enough mayhem for an eternity."

 

"I vant to love somebody else, but--"

 

Sniper tossed his head and threw his hand up at Jürgen to seize his statement.

"Oi'm gonna stop you right there--"

 

"Just listen!" 

Jürgen's elevated voice left Liam at attention, with a forcibly renewed interest in whatever had the bolt box so riled up. He lowered his hand and raised his eyebrow in question.

"Go on then."

 

The bot clutched ample parts of his attire into his fists before frowning. 

"I don't vant to be your burden. I know you don't care for me, I get zhat.

"Really, I vant to just rid zhese strange, irrational sensations I get every time I see you. I just vant to do my job to zhe best of my ability to aid you, but I just can't.

"Zhere are zhings I see...from Sven's memories, his dreams? Oh, zhey're so good, but zhey don't do me anyzhing because you don't just don't vant zhat.

"And so I've been trying to shift how I feel, deleting memories of Sven's and supplanting zhem wizh my own so I can better be of use to you, und zhe team. 

"I'm just some creation of Sven's, just an electrical...tool to you, but I just vant you to _try_ and see me as somezhing more zhan a talking battery pack!"

 

Jürgen's rising passion lifted the scowl from Sniper's face and supplanted it with one of deeper understanding. 

 

"I just," Jürgen trailed off, clearly exhausted with his own thoughts, "I know I vas mainly created to help Sven around zhe base, but I was also erected to help you. But how can I do zhat if  
you've never even given me zhe chance?"

 

The Medibot's eyes dimmed so low, they were almost completely switched off. It was enough to make Liam uncomfortable with himself, and soon he found himself uttering words without thinking first.

 

"C'mere."

 

Liam extended his arms open, beckoning the Medibot to sit beside him on the bed.

"No, see, zhis is what I vas talking about. I shouldn't have come here, I'm just burdening you wizh--"

"Will you pipe down and just get over here?"

 

Jürgen's mouth hung agape as he moved from the wooden chair to Sniper's side.

He sat on the edge of the bed, taking care to not brush up against any part of Liam. 

But Sniper pulled him in by his side with one arm, clutching onto his shoulder as he sighed.

"Oi'm sorry. Y'just try'na help, 'n this whole situation's been th'bloody worse of things."

"I-it's fine. I just..." Jürgen squeezed his shirt tight enough to leave wrinkles.

"Wot is it?" 

"Should I just give up on you?"

 

The question afflicted Sniper more than he thought it would. 

Hearing it churned his stomach and tensed the muscles in his arms. He didn't like the sound of that, words of his dismissal.

Perhaps it was the loneliness dictating his ill-planned responses, but Liam took both Jürgen's shoulders into his hands before planting a curt kiss upon his forehead.

"Just shut up and stay like this for a while. Stop worrying 'bout everything when all's gonna be alright."

"But zhe Spy--" He started, intending to let Liam in on the other man's offer.

"Nevermind the Spook, or anybody else roight now, even Sven." He let Medic's name roll of his tongue, a doleful attempt to suppress recollections of their previous spat. "Just focus on me, 'n oi'll focus on you for now, 'kay?"

Jürgen nodded, chassis starting to fill with warmth as Sniper pulled him in for a proper embrace. Despite the lack of bathing, the hunstman's musk was one to remember, peppery and earthy  
with a strong bite on initial inhalation of his scent.

"Zhank you," he hummed, grateful for Sniper's evolution over these past few days.

 

"Listen," Sniper murmured into Jürgen's ear, " 'm gonna give you some advice." Liam pulled away from the hug to rummage around under his pillow for something.

It wasn't long before he pulled a single cigarette and matchbook from the depths, but as soon as it was in position to be lit, both items were smacked from Sniper's hand. The open flame bounced on the floor dangerously close to runaway bedding pooled beside his bed, and Liam looked to the Medibot, pissed and ready to fume.

"I hate zhat Sven and Spy smokes, it's bad enough."

"Y'could've set this room ablaze--"

"Pyro is just down zhe hall, und I would never place you in any harm intentionally. I vasn't kidding vhen I said I think I lo--"

"Alright! Oi get it," Liam interrupted, unsure of how to feel about the fuzzy feeling blooming with Jürgen's last statement. "Hell, you have no filter. Truckie wasn't kidding when he said you'd turn out to be someone different than Doc, just didn't think it'd be this soon."

"Vell, soon enough I'll be zhe superior choice." Jürgen's cheeks illuminated the dark room, and Liam couldn't suppress a smile even if he was paid to.

"Oi doubt that entirely," he dismissed, playfully shoving the newly flexing bot off the bed.

 

But beneath their moment of childish fun, Liam was absolutely scared.

Worried, even, that if the Medibot was different than Sven, without all the malicious tendencies and crazy ploys to manipulate his body...

 

He shook his head and stopped his train of thought.

 

"Do wot makes you feel roight." His voice barely carried any bass, but Jürgen heard.

"Mm. Zhen I'll work towards making us inseparable. Could you imagine vhat you could do wizh a pocket medic like me? Oh, zhe possibilities."

 

Sniper's gears started churning overtime, and he quickly took to wrapping his body back in his blanket, losing himself in licentious thought.

The possibilities, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a fan-fiction before, so this is definitely some rough stuff. Hopefully it'll get better as it goes on, but if there's grammar corrects, suggestions, or anything in between, feel free to help me out with feedback! It'll help me greatly since I write half-drunk/half-asleep.
> 
> I honestly have no clue where this is going, but I have some sort of theme/idea, so I'ma run with it the best I possibly can.


End file.
